Scintilla
by x-benihime
Summary: Familiars. Shields. Weapons. Coveted and controlled. Used by witches to maintain status and power, or be forced to fight for their lives. But then he's found by her—by golden hair and dark gold eyes and warmth he's never known. And she's in more trouble than she can admit. Witch/Familiar!AU. NaLu. Rated for violence, injury, torture.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_** _This is way overdue, and not complete unfortunately, for the lovely constellunaa 's birthday! I hope you can forgive me for it taking so long!_ _ _This originally wasn't going to be what I came back with when I was on hiatus, but it ended up turning out a lot longer than I expected so now it's a multichap and I just need to stop looking at this fucking thing already oh my god its driving me crazy. I can't even tell anymore if its okay or just total crap.__

 _Big thank you to those who have continuously listened to me go fucking crazy over this and deal with me and my blurbs and screaming and everything. You know who you are ^^_

 ** _ _***PLEASE READ THE RATING!***__**

 _ **Rating:** M – graphic injury, violence, torture, panic attacks, etc. This is a lot darker than I expected it was going to be._

 _ **Summary:** Familiars. Shields. Weapons. Coveted and controlled. Used by witches to maintain status and power, or be forced to fight for their lives. But then he's found by her—by golden hair and dark gold eyes and warmth he's never known. And she's in more trouble than she can admit. Witch/Familiar!AU. NaLu._

* * *

Sharp metal pierces his sinuses as he swallows and fights back heaving. The blood is nauseating, overwhelming, dulling his ability to smell anything else around him. He lets his jaw slacken and breathes heavily through his mouth.

Warmth trickles from the corners.

He leans forward and allows the blood and cauterized skin to fall to the grass. He reflexively goes to spit and snarls inwardly at the shock to his system. He can't make any sort of mouth movement right now. He knows this.

With a deep breath, he brings a thumb just past his lips and burns both sides of his now split tongue. He swallows what remains of the blood and inhales deep through his nose.

Dead leaves. Soil. Wet bark. Must. Metal. Charred trees.

Water.

He takes off at a sprint.

He doesn't have long before his burned skin is worn away by his saliva and has to be seared again. His senses are high, lungs drawing in large gushes of air, tasting.

The back of his neck pricks at the presence of a massive amount of magic.

He jumps, but the force of the blast sends him rolling. White bursts behind his eyelids as the back of his head collides with the trunk of a tree. His brain throbs in his skull. His heart pounds in his ears. His breath rips down his throat.

He coughs violently at the inhale.

The motion rips open his tongue and the taste of metal floods his mouth again. He stops the bleeding quickly with fire before taking off once more, stance staggering this time. He shakes off the dizzy feeling and narrowly avoids pitching forward, claws digging deep into a nearby tree limb to keep him upright.

He looks up.

If he climbs, she'll follow. If he hides, it won't take her long to find him. If he fights in his current state, he won't stand much of a chance. The only advantage he really has over her, he can't use without her, and what allows him to use it, prevents him from hurting her.

Stupidly fucking ironic is what it is.

In all honesty, he has no chance right now. But he'll be damned if he lets her take him again without a fight.

Even if his power is limited.

He spins around and sparks fire in his palms, only to be thrown back against a nearby trunk. His flames die out as the invisible force pins him, bark digging deep into his skin.

Her eyes burn black in the moonlight, face streaked in the blood she'd tried and failed to wipe away. Her face warps into a snarl as she forces him deeper into the tree with an outstretched hand. He lets out a soft grunt and draws in a shuddering breath, pushing back against her magic to do so.

He's barely able to.

"You're lucky I know some healing magic," her voice is low as she spits at the ground and he smells the blood. She pushes her tongue out through her teeth, and he can see where she'd weaved it back together, haphazardly, but successful nonetheless. "That stunt you pulled could've killed me otherwise," she lures, stepping closer. Her hand comes up to grab his jaw, fingers digging in, "How're _you_ avoiding it?"

He growls at her and jerks back as her nails pierce his skin and force his mouth open.

"Huh," she lets her hand drop, "you've still got some fire without the binding?" She tilts her head to one side and crosses her arms. "Impressive."

He bares his fangs and hisses.

One flick of her hand has his teeth jammed together and chin tilted up.

She yanks his head back down by one of his horns and wrings one of his old piercings. The twist shocks his body and shoots through his whole system, crippling every nerve and he seethes softly, determined not to react. He bites back a whine in his throat, muscles tensing instead, just barely managing to hold it together. He won't give her the satisfaction of his fear.

"I'm not above breaking you," she whispers in his ear. "Maybe this time I'll bind you with a hoop." He feels pin pricks on either side of his septum. Her nails. "Not the first time I've seen another witch leading one of you by the nose."

He rears back and twists his neck down violently, relishing in the sound of horns slashing skin.

She stumbles back, letting her grip on him go enough for his feet to touch the ground and arms to brace against the tree.

He digs his claws in and tears around the trunk, sprinting as fast as his weakening body will allow. With the remnants of his binder's magic fading, it won't be long before he's completely useless.

He sears his tongue shut again. The overall bleeding is slowing, only because his heart rate has slowed. Now, with him running…

He needs to get away. And fast.

His skin pricks again at the presence of her next attack.

He narrowly avoids the high speed whirring as the magic whizzes past his ear and connects with the wood of the trees in front of him, gouging deep gashes into the bark. He dodges another only to draw in a sharp breath at the edges of the condensed energy ripping into the skin of his neck and cheek.

He holds back a cry as he goes to burn those closed too.

He pulls on the fire.

His stomach sinks.

The magic isn't there.

He's out.

Fuck.

He claps a hand to the side of his neck, clamping down hard to stop as much of the bleeding as he can. The smell of the water is closer now, if he can just get across the stream then—

He runs into nothing.

What?

He stretches his free hand out to push against what looks like air as the familiar feel of his binder's magic singes his palm. Another barrier.

His skin buzzes from all around.

The faint iridescence of the wall swirls and curves, stretching high, up, and around a large perimeter, farther than he can see through the trees. Had she sectioned off the entire chunk of forest?

In an instant he's spun around, back pressed against the barrier, arms once again at his sides. Without the pressure on his neck, he feels the blood flow down the length of his throat to his collarbone.

He tastes metal again and fights against his heavy eyelids. He grits his teeth and struggles to pull together another spark of fire, but he's really empty.

"All out?" she sneers, streaking her face in red as she fingers the gashes. He watches the skin across her cheek and forehead knit back together where he'd hit with his horns. "Fucking useless without the bond. What's the point of you guys anyway? You can't do anything without belonging to someone."

He can't help the feral snarl that rips up his throat at that comment.

He doesn't _belong_ to _anyone_. Not now.

Fucking bitch.

He strains against the hold she has on him, fighting the two barriers.

"You're not getting out of this," she pulls a hoop and a curved barbell from the cleavage of her bodice. "You're just going to wear yourself out."

That's the idea.

He quickens his breathing, bites down on both sides of his tongue, does everything he can to raise his heart-rate.

He'll bleed out before he lets her bind him again. He'll die free. Not with her. Not in that basement.

Her eyes widen once she realizes what he's trying to do.

With a flick of the wrist she drops the barriers and he crumples to the grass, panting, hard. He sees her fingers twirl out of the corner of his eye and hears the hoop fly. He wrenches his head to the side to avoid it.

A sharp piercing in the shell of his left ear brings the telltale flood of magic through his body as his sigil burns over his chest and shoulders. His lungs draw in a long, shuddering breath of their own accord, and his eyes snap open. He feels the muscles working, narrowing in on his field of vision.

And now, he can see _everything_.

Including his binder staring over his shoulder at something, scared shitless.

It takes him one minute to realize the two binding piercings of hers are still floating in midair, and then another to figure out that the magic he feels, isn't from her.

It's from someone else.

"Been looking for you, Karen," a new voice whispers, behind him.

Blinding light whites out the forest and he covers his eyes to avoid it, lucky enough not to have a frontal assault.

His former binder? Not so much.

Karen screeches, hands shielding her face, and she staggers back against a nearby tree, nails digging into her forehead. "You fucking _bitch_."

One minute the new witch is behind him, and then next, she's in front of him, kneeling down next to Karen, draped in black.

"That's _my_ line, you hag," she says, fingers weaving into green hair and yanking Karen's head back roughly, "stealing what's mine."

Karen looks thoughtful for a moment, confused, before she seems to realize what the other witch is talking about and snorts, "The unbound lion? He was never yours to begin with."

"He was in _my_ territory," the cloaked witch brings up her free hand to Karen's eyes, "and I want him back."

The answering smile on Karen's face radiates conceit as she snickers.

Then, she cackles, chest heaving, eyes flashing.

"I'll be happy to give him back," Karen finally manages, breathless and smirking, "you might have to dig for the meat though, that shield didn't hold up long."

He doesn't miss the overwhelming scent of anger radiating from the new witch, or the dark aura rippling through the air around her. He feels his magic surge as well, and then dissipate deep into his muscle.

His sight blurs.

The new witch's hand comes up to circle Karen's throat.

"You know you can't kill me," Karen croaks, pulling her chin up, "so why don't you save your new pet before he dies." She meets his gaze over the witches shoulder and he swallows reflexively, wincing as his stomach cramps at the blood.

His body goes slack as his energy leaves him and he blinks at the black spots clouding his vision. He bites his tongue to stay awake, but the darkness only grows.

Warmth floods his chest as gravity claims him.

—

Blood slicks his hands as he claws at his throat.

He won't be collared again. Not again. He can't do it again. Not this time. Whatever is wrapped around him needs to go and it needs to go _now_.

His breathing is ragged, his heart is pounding, he tears at everything around him and tries to pull himself up. He needs to run. He needs to get away.

A warm hand splays over his chest, and his body calms instantly. He registers a faint, gentle voice in his ear, but can't quite make out the words. A soft, floral scent fills his nose and he lets his head hang as he breathes more evenly.

"…ground…feet…"

His toes curl on reflex, digging into the floor. Sanded wood rubs against them, cool beneath him. Rough _and_ smooth.

"…good…hands…here…"

Softness curls around the backs of his hands, pulling them from his neck, and his fingers tighten reflexively. The tips of his claws dig into his palms, kickstarting his heart a notch.

His eyes fly open.

Soft golden gaze. Long waves. Piercings.

Facial sigil.

He jerks back and away at that, and the calm immediately vanishes. His hands rip from hers as his back hits a wall and he flinches. The soreness from where the bark had scraped at him is faint in comparison to his racing blood and mind.

She's more dangerous than Karen.

Her expression warps at his movement, eyes glazing over instantly as she reaches for him again, but stops. She lets her hands fall and takes a step back from him.

His muscles relax, and so does she.

He clenches his jaw and looks around the room. There's a window, but it's not big enough to climb out of. Candlelight flickers in the glass' reflection, just barely illuminating a door in the corner. He'd have to jump over the bed to get to there.

His ear throbs from the new piercing.

Right.

The new binding. His new binder stands in front of him, ears fully decorated in hoops and studs. There's no point in trying to run this time. Not from someone this strong. Not from someone with this many familiars at her disposal. Not in the physical state he's in.

The fight leaves him and his legs give out.

Warm arms catch him before he hits the floor and guide him back to the bed in a sitting position against the headboard. Her heart is racing, he can hear it, as her scent gets stronger. He can smell it.

Her fear.

Why is she scared.

As soon as she has him upright, she backs away and sits at the foot of the bed, crosslegged. She folds her hands on her lap and he watches as she looks him over. Her face warps into an expression he can't quite read as she brings a hand to cover her mouth and close her eyes.

Salt. He can smell salt.

Is…is she crying?

Her eyes are glossy when she opens them, swallows, and clears her throat.

"You had a few bandages wrapped around your neck, and one on your cheek that you've now ripped off. They aren't bleeding as badly as before, but I need to fix them before you lose any more blood." She wraps her arms around her torso. "You've lost too much already."

Something flashes in her eyes and a shiver crawls up his spine.

He bows and tilts his head to the side. He knows anger when he sees it. Better to just let her do what she wants and get it over with.

He focuses hard on the wooden walls as the bed dips next to him, and fights against flinching away from the fingers that come to touch his neck. The tendons twitch though, and he focuses on his breathing. Deep. Steady. Even.

Don't react.

He feels her weight disappear from the bed and hears a sloshing and dripping. Wet fabric meets his throat and slides over the skin of his neck, chest, and shoulder, dangerously close to the aching gash. The same process is repeated with his cheek.

His stomach churns and he keels over the side of the bed as he heaves up blood.

Tears prick the backs of his eyes as he fights to catch a breath. He groans internally. Obviously he hadn't spit out enough of it and had kept swallowing for as long as he'd been blacked out.

He coughs violently when there's nothing left, and the cool cloth runs over his cheeks and forehead.

"It's okay," her voice is soft, "you're okay."

Hands pull him back up and wipe the blood from his face.

"Damn," she breathes, "what did she do to you?"

His nausea roils at the sour taste on his tongue. He clenches his teeth and fights a snarl. It had just managed to stop bleeding, how is he going to stop it this time? He'd bound now. He can't use magic on himself.

She swipes at a trail of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, rubs it between her fingers. She inhales sharply and turns to face him.

"Open up."

He tilts away from her slightly, shoulders back, muscles tense.

She just looks at him, brow furrowed, eyes wide. He can feel her anxiety.

"Please," she bites her inner cheek. "Please, let me help you."

The cloth sits on her thigh, hands curled into fists, half reaching out to him. Hair curls around her cheekbones and moves with her lashes when she blinks. Clumped together lashes. The corners of her eyes glisten. Wet.

She _was_ crying.

His gaze narrows in on her. On the twitch of her eyes and the building of tears, the quirk of her nose and a slight flair of anger. But not at him. The waves don't come at him. She's angry about something else.

Her fingers itch to reach for him, and he can see her restraint.

She's waiting for permission.

Through all the other overwhelming scents, all he gets from her is worry. Not the telltale smell of rage or malice. She's in pain though. He can tell that much.

He cautiously lets his jaw go slack.

She slowly brings her hands up to his face and rests her thumbs on his lower lip, gently opening his mouth. There's a slight pressure of her pointed nails against his teeth as she leans in, and a slight glow from one of her fingertips to get a better look.

The hands are gone quickly, back to covering her eyes for a minute.

"Fuck." He can barely hear her.

She stands from her spot and shuffles around the small table with the candle before coming back with a fresh piece of cloth and looking up at him. "I need you to let me see."

He swallows involuntarily and fights back the immediate response to keel over the side of the bed again. Very slowly, his tongue works its way out, and she brings the cloth up to rest beneath. He watches as she brings one side of the fabric up to press against the top before pulling away. There's not as much blood as before.

"Healing magic isn't my strong suit," her voice is soft and he feels her thumb lightly trace at the tastebuds next to the split and his burns, "but I know enough to fix something like this." She leans in close, studying, before her eyes find his. "Since so many layers of skin have been lost or burned, I'll have to heal both sides separately. I won't be able to weave them back together."

He nods. Doesn't really matter to him anyway. Less of a chance of that piercing happening again in the future.

His nose scrunches up as she runs a pointed nail along one side of the raw skin, tongue stitching itself back in her wake. The heat and stretch and slight sear of his cells joining back together has him closing his eyes and holding his breath.

Only a dull throb remains and his nose flares as he exhales harshly.

"One more, okay?"

He swallows the saliva in the back of his throat, the motion uncomfortable. When the ache dies down, he gives a short nod and closes his eyes this time. It doesn't hurt as much.

She gently takes the cloth away and prods at the healed skin. It's tender, but better, and he lets out a long sigh in relief as he pulls his tongue in and runs it along the ridges of his teeth experimentally. He can control the two separate sides. Individually.

It feels a little foreign, but better than the razor-edged piercing Karen had had in there before.

"You're insane," she raises an eyebrow at him with a small smirk, "you know that?"

He blinks at her.

"Ripping that out with your teeth with no means of healing yourself properly. Honestly. I'm impressed." Her tone betrays her expression, however, when the smirk fades into a frown and she looks away. "Not the first time I've seen that kind of silence binding used, unfortunately," the smirk comes back quickly and breaks into a smile as she glances back up at him, "first time I've seen a familiar escape because of it, though."

Not like he'd had much choice in the matter. In all the years he's spent as a familiar, never has he feared life. Injury, sure, especially with the number of fights he's been forced into and how many hits he's taken. But Karen…

He shudders and then winces at the motion.

His chest aches and he coughs violently.

He rubs at the spot though he knows it won't help. Not after what she'd tried to do.

His new binder's gaze follows his fingers at the motion and she shuffles a little closer, hands hovering above his. "May I?"

His anxiety swells from the unfamiliar territory. She stares at him with gold eyes, full of determination and remnants of tears shed. Gone is the malice he'd seen directed at Karen. Gone is the aura of danger that had filled the forest. All that's left is a low-burning fiery magic, full of a quiet longing…and something else he's never felt before.

He doesn't know what's going on and that terrifies him. Is she just helping him so she can turn on him later?

He lifts his chin and as a gesture, looks to his chest. There's not much she can do anyway to make it worse, but he'll still keep an eye on her.

Her fingertips are cool on the skin of his sigil as she slowly presses her palm flat and closes her eyes. Her magic sings within him, curling in his muscles and rushing through his blood. His head spins and he readies himself to jerk away should he need to when she focuses in on his heart. It aches at her gentle prodding and he flinches.

Her eyes snap open, an instant snarl warping her features.

"She tried to expand your origin," she yanks her hand back, running it through her hair and standing from the bed. Again he smells salt as she paces around the bed. "What the hell was she _trying_ to kill you?!"

She's not talking to him at this point, devolving and muttering faster than his muddled head can keep up with. The question seems more rhetorical than anything anyway, since Karen't didn't care. No witches do. He's disposable.

He knows what Karen was doing. She'd showed him what happened to the failures.

"Fuck," she whispers, voice cracking, turning to him, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry this has happened to you." This time he sees the tears roll down her cheeks.

He swallows, hard.

What is going _on._

Witches don't… _do_ this. They don't… _care_.

Wiping her cheeks, she comes down to sit at the foot of his bed.

"I'm sorry for what you've gone through, and I'm sorry I had to bind you like this. This isn't normally what happens," she sighs, eyes dulling. She looks exhausted. "Usually—"

She's cut off by a loud crack from outside the room, and he starts at that.

"Lucy!"

Her head snaps in the direction of the voice and he can feel a spike in her anxiety. The magic in the…wherever they are, is definitely housed by another familiar. Why the worry?

He shakes his head and growls to himself. Fuck he hates being this clueless and asking this many questions. He feels like an idiot, and he's not. Not by a long shot.

The door in front of him flies open. A man with dark hair stands there, breathless, with a sigil blacking out the skin of his arm, chest, and jaw in thick, curving embellishments.

A demon familiar.

The familiar's eyes find the witch instantly, wide and searching until he looks to the bed.

Looks to him.

The small smile on his face falls before pulling into a cross between anger and something else. The familiar looks to the witch. "You bound him before talking to him?"

His binder nods, "I didn't get the chance."

The familiar groans, " _Lucy!"_

The witch…Lucy…springs up from the bed. "I _know_ , Gray, I'm not a fucking idiot!" she yells, "I didn't have much of a choice in the matter, I wasn't going to let Karen kill him too!" He hears a kickstart of her heart and watches the colour drain from her face.

The room goes silent.

She'd said _Gray_ to the familiar.

Gray, this familiar, is that his _name_?

He…has a name.

 _Gray_ crosses his arms, jaw clenching. His eyes flash with uncertainty, despair, denial, hope. He opens and closes his mouth multiple times before steeling himself.

"Too?" Gray finally manages.

He can feel Lucy's heartbreak and anger in the magic as she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. She breathes in deep, slow, deliberate.

"Lucy?" he prompts again.

Lucy lets her hands drop and whole body slump. "We were too late," she says, softly. "She killed him."

Gray stops. Stands there. Doesn't move a muscle.

"You found Karen."

"Yes."

"And this guy was running from her."

"Yes."

"So you bound him to stop her."

"Yes."

"And _then_ she told you she killed Loke."

"Yes."

Gray spins on his heel and disappears through the door.

"Gray!" Lucy goes after him.

He digs his fingers into the mattress to pull himself up and the pain in his chest flares. He bites at his lip to ignore it and forces himself to standing. He may not be in much shape to protect, but he'll do what he can if Gray needs him to.

He hisses at the throb in his skull and leans heavily against the door frame to stay upright, angling himself to hide as much of his body as he can. Normally, his hearing was good enough that he wouldn't have had to move from the bed, but the blood rushing and ringing in his ears is too distracting right now.

He breathes heavily and blinks away the blurry edges of his vision to focus in on Lucy and waits to see her restrain the demon familiar.

But she doesn't do that.

She simply grabs Gray's hand before he can throw open what appears to be the door he came in through. With his night vision he can make the both of them out, especially with the light from the mood, but not much else about the small house—shack?—he's in.

"Where are you going?" Lucy asks, giving him a small tug.

"I'm going to find her."

Lucy shakes her head, "Even if you can find her, she'll _kill_ you."

Gray whirls on her. "She has Loke!" he snarls. "I'm not going to just leave him there now that we've finally found her!" He pulls in hard, heaving breaths, audible throughout the whole house.

It's the only sound other than the creaking of the boards from the wind.

Lucy looks to the floor and shakes her head. "No, she doesn't, Gray," her tone is soft. "He's gone."

A growl builds in Gray's throat. "Did you ever stop to think she was just fucking with you, Lucy? That she was mad you took _that guy_ ," Gray jabs a finger violently in the direction of the room he's in, "so she fucked with you to make you angry?"

Lucy's head snaps up, anger rearing. "Yes," she hisses. "That was my first thou—" her voice cracks, and her fingers tighten around Gray's wrist. "Yes. I did."

The softness of her voice stops Gray in his tracks.

He studies her face closely. The way her eyebrows draw together and how she bites her lip. She blinks slowly, keeping her eyes closed briefly before meeting his gaze again.

"Of course," she whispers. "Of _course_ I thought that. Hoped for that. Prayed for that. I would give anything for that to be the case."

"So how do you know it's not?" he asks, voice hard.

Lucy's breath hitches. "I _looked_ , Gray," she says, voice thick. "I saw her do it."

"Then show me."

Lucy bites her lip. "Gray—"

" _Show_ me, Lucy," Gray presses.

Reluctantly, Lucy brings the tips of her fingers up to Gray's temples and closes her eyes. Gray's eyes glaze over and his whole body stiffens under her touch as he just stares vacantly, unseeing, through Lucy.

The boards continue to creak and whistle from the wind.

All at once Gray rips away from Lucy and covers his face, backing away and against the front door. "No."

Lucy doesn't say anything. She just reaches for Gray, wraps her arms around his shoulders, and pulls him in close with silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

"It's gunna be okay," she chokes out, and Gray shakes his head, arms limp at his sides, fists curling and uncurling. "We're…we're gunna be okay." Gray stays tense. He doesn't believe her.

She doesn't believe it either, but that doesn't stop her from repeating it, over and over. A mantra.

Gray struggles, and though he can't see Gray's expression where it's hidden behind Lucy's hair, he can see him trying to pull away and Lucy only holding him tighter. He writhes in Lucy's grip, hands clenching, pushing, flailing out to strike the wall closest to him with a punch, a crater of ice erupting and digging into the wood before he falls to the floor, taking Lucy with him.

Lucy buries her face in Gray's shoulder and lets out a soft, but audible, sob. "We were too late."

Gray doesn't say anything.

This isn't something he should be watching. It's none of his business. He's intruding.

As silently as possible, he pulls back from the door frame and bites the inside of his cheek, hard, when the ache in his chest comes back and makes his stomach churn. At his sudden intake of breath his ribs decide to start stabbing at his lungs and his head decides up is down and sideways is right-ways.

He drop to his knees in a dry heave, and one more time, everything goes dark.

—

When he wakes up this time, sun is shining in through the window, his head is clear, the room is empty, and his chest is a hundred times lighter than it had been before. He's still a little tender, but the magic he's holding isn't overflowing or forced, so he's okay.

He's a little groggy from sleep, and this time when his stomach growls, its asking for food.

He's _starving_.

It still hurts to breathe, but is only uncomfortable in comparison to the stabbing he'd felt before passing out. His neck and cheek and tongue are sore, and he'll need to be cautious for a little while, but they're closed enough to not be fatal.

His whole body screams at him though as he trudges to the door and slowly pulls it open. There's one other presence in the house, the familiar from last night, and he doesn't quite know what to expect.

He definitely doesn't expect to see Gray ripping out a cabin wall.

Ice seeps into the grooves and cracks of the wood, a faint sheen before darkening to a deep black and shattering under the force of the punch that follows. Another hole that allows Gray to rip out another chunk of wall, and allows more sun to stream in.

What is he _doing_?

Gray's at a higher level than he is, at the top of a few steps that span the length of the cabin's main area and lead down to the main floor. The room is tiled with large slabs of stone, spiralling and circling from the walls, in, to a large pit full of jagged black stones at the center. A fire burns behind a metal grate, nestled in a large slab of stone in the corner closest to him.

Aside from the wall in front of Gray, and where he'd just come out of, the rest of the room is constructed entirely out of rock.

Shelves line the walls, full of small boxes, jars, and bundles wrapped with twine. Glass lanterns stick out, up high, with unlit, half-burned candles, and large barrels are scattered around and in the other corners. A large tree root sprouts out the middle of one wall, right next to the fire, curves down, and disappears into the floor. A large hole is carved into it with a few iron tools inside.

Its a massive merge of stone and earth, with seemingly no logic to it.

But it's full and warm.

So very warm.

Gray turns and spies him in the doorway. "Hey, you're up."

He blinks as Gray tosses a chunk of wood outside and shuffles down the steps to one of the bundles on a shelf, grabbing something from one of the twine-wrapped packages and sidling over to the fire. Gray pulls something from inside and wraps it up.

It's meat. He can smell it. It makes his mouth water.

It's in front of his face, wrapped in a leaf—from the shelf—and he's tearing into it before he can even think again about how hungry he is. It's rough on his tongue and hurts a bit to eat, but it's filling and salty and everything he needs right now.

There's a wooden bowl with water in front of him that he swaps his empty leaf for and drains the whole thing in seconds.

Gray's looking at him with an amused smile and he bows his head slightly.

"No. None of that," Gray's face falls and he tosses the used leaf into the fire. "Food is a basic standard, no need to thank." He brushes his hands on his pants. "I need a smoke, c'mon."

Gray gestures for him to follow up the stairs, through the now non-existent wall, and out to a few slabs of stone. He pulls out a small, cylindrical bundle of shredded tobacco leaf. It shines in the sun.

It'd been flash frozen in place of paper.

Cool.

"You use fire, right?" Gray side-eyes him. "Can I get a light?"

He nods and Gray brings the tobacco to his lips, cupping his hands to shield it from the breeze. With a quick snap of of fingers he burns a low flame until the end glows orange and Gray pulls away to breathe out a cloud of smoke.

"Thanks," Gray rasps.

But he's not paying much attention.

He hasn't stopped the flow of magic, and his whole body buzzes with it. His blood sings, thrums with each rush, and his origin expands and contracts on its own with each beat. It fills him, and the backs of his eyes prick.

The sensation leaves him unable to move right away.

He looks at his hands.

It's so…clean.

His heart aches in his chest as he pulls on the magic again, fire sparking in his palm and settling into a soft, golden flame. The world falls away, dampening his hearing.

He stares as it flickers, dancing in his grasp, weaving through his fingers and around his wrist, playful. The warmth tickles at his skin, licking, twisting, and then engulfing as he curls hands into fists.

"Surreal, isn't it?"

He snaps out of it to look at Gray, who's looking at him with a soft smile.

He's not quite sure what Gray's talking about.

Gray looks to his own hands, "Feeling Lucy's magic for the first time. There's nothing like it, huh?" He tilts his head up to the sky. "First time I felt it I thought I was dreaming."

He looks from his hands to Gray before extinguishing the fire and crossing his arms. It's all so strange.

"She's different," he continues. "I didn't know witches like her could exist back when I met her. I was lucky, I'd only had three or so binders before Lucy." Gray taps the stud just below his bottom lip before looking over to him, looking over his face like he wants so say something.

He looks away from Gray, focusing instead on his surroundings.

The area is more open than what he's used to with large stretches of grass, littered with a few stumps. The trees climb high, leaves ranging anywhere from green to red, burning bright in the morning sun. Chunks of cut wood pile high off to one side of the house, and a row of large stone bowls and slabs of metal sit above a few fire pits.

"Usually," he can hear Gray flick the ash off his cigarette, "we talk to familiars before Lucy binds them. Show them where we live. Who Lucy is. Give them the choice." He looks over to Gray who shuffles over to a nearby stump to sit down. "Because we deserve that. We deserve the choice."

A choice.

"But from what she's told me, you were seconds away from being Karen's again," a snarl warps Gray's features at the name and he spits at the ground. "So we're gunna end up doing this backwards."

Gray juts his chin out at the stump right next to him, and he walks over to sit.

Gray draws in another puff of smoke and lets out a low exhale.

"My last binder was a few decades ago," Gray starts, crossing an ankle over his knee and hunching over to brace his forearms against his calf. "She was…well, what a witch was. Cold. Controlling. Did whatever she wanted. Used us for whatever she wanted. Usually as a shield, or for a fight. Fight or die."

Gray blinks slowly, pausing for a minute. "It wasn't just me she had, obviously. Witches rarely have just one familiar. But he and I…Loke…was—" he chokes over the word, "…was my best friend. The amount of shit we managed to get through together…"

He takes another pull, the leaves crackling as they burn.

"That last night, another witch came into our territory," he says, eyes focused on the shortening cigarette. "Her familiars attacked us. Us. Our binder. The house. One second, we were fighting, the next, we were unbound and running. Loke and I were supposed to meet up, but…" Gray shakes his head, "he never showed."

He uncurls from his seated position and finishes off the last of his smoke before tossing the tail end into a nearby fire pit. "I thought he might've gotten bound by the witch who'd attacked us, so I started looking for her. Found her eventually and almost got killed by one of her familiars. Would have if Lucy hadn't been there too."

Gray lets out a loud cough and clears his throat. "When I woke up here," he unconsciously looks back in the direction of the house, "I could smell Loke. I nearly killed Lucy when she came in to check on me. If she hadn't shown me her memories, I would have."

He rubs at his face with his hands. Unbound, Gray wouldn't have had magic, though.

Unless he'd held onto some for that long.

"She didn't do anything to defend herself from me," Gray grabs another cig from his pocket, and raises an eyebrow. He pulls on magic from his origin and lights it easily for Gray. "It was the strangest thing." A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Turned out she was looking for Loke too."

Gray draws in a long breath, muscles loosening with the movement as he rolls his neck. "Eventually we started looking for him together and she ended up binding me in the middle of a fight. I told her to, since there was only so much I could do without magic against other witches and familiars. She'd wanted to before of course, but didn't force it on me. Didn't stop her from asking as many times as she did. She blames herself for losing Loke."

He furrows his brow at Gray.

Gray sighs at that. "Lucy…doesn't like binding. She feels it's an uneven balance of power. We aren't below her. We aren't weapons or tools at her disposal for whatever she wants. So she never bound Loke, and because of that, Karen was able to take him. She didn't want the same thing to happen to me too."

There's no way this is real. No chance in the world. He's totally dead right now and just doesn't know it. People like this…they don't exist. They don't.

"So," Gray yawns, "eventually we found another familiar. And then another. And another, until there was a huge group of us."

He looks around, reaches out. He doesn't hear, smell, or sense anyone else, though the rain from a few days ago could have something to do with that.

"We haven't all been back here in awhile," Gray tells him, answering his unspoken thought. "Though with you here, they'll definitely all be coming now." He jerks a thumb behind him. "Hence the wall."

…that makes no sense.

"Which reminds me," Gray stands and stretches, "we need to start on the bread for tonight. Whenever we get a new family member, everyone comes back here to celebrate." A smile. "Think of it like a reunion for most of us, and a 'welcome' for you." Gray holds out a hand to him and he takes it, letting Gray pull him to standing.

"Gotta go get started on the flour," Gray says, turning away and grabbing two large, curved blades from where it's propped up against stone and offers him one. "You comin'?"

He looks from the scythe, up to Gray, and back. None of this feels real. He doesn't know what to do.

He tentatively takes the handle and follows Gray around one side of the house to a mid-size field of wheat. The tall, fuzzy, beige stalks come up to about his chest and sway gently in the breeze.

Gray moves to put some space between them. "You ever done this before?"

He shakes his head.

"Okay," he backs up, "just watch what I do, and follow suit. And just keep enough distance so you don't hack off my leg."

He watches as Gray readjusts his grip—one hand on the top handle and the other midway down the staff—and twists his body to run the scythe through the wheat in a large semi-circle. It falls effortlessly and Gray steps forward to repeat the same action with the next chunk of tall grass.

The blade is heavier than he was expecting, and though he doesn't quite understand how the stalks end up getting cut instead of bent, when the weight helps the movement gain momentum he finds it to be effortless. It just works, and his thoughts are soon dulled by the repetitive, meditative motions.

It doesn't take them long to gather it all into a few large bundles, way more than he's ever seen before.

"Definitely not enough."

Gray yanks one of the sheafs into place next to the others and brushes his hands off on his pants. "Think you can go find Lucy? We probably need another half field and I gotta get started on threshing." He crosses the field back toward the house and gestures behind him. "She's probably out by the creek. You can hear it just through that treeline."

Gray disappears into the house before he has the chance to protest.

What even.

He shakes his head and makes his way into the forest.

It's the earsplitting cracks that lead him to her, loud over the sound of the rushing river. He hears the grunts, her frustration, and feels the magic and pain before he rounds the massive roots of an uprooted, fallen tree.

She stands hunched over a half-destroyed trunk now laying on the ground.

He scents the air and smells nothing but her and the must of wet bark. So she's not in danger.

Once again, he smells salt.

"Dammit," her voice breaks. "Fucking hell, dammit."

He flinches at another loud crack and rustling of a tree falling over as a flash of light whites out part of his vision. The displeased whine that escapes his lips is involuntary and he more hears than sees her whip around to face him.

"Shit," she breathes. Leaves and twigs crunch under her feet, each snap louder than the last as she gets closer. "Sorry, are you okay?" Her hands hover just over his, and he lets her pull them from his face. "Can I take a look?"

The pads of her fingers prod below his eyes and push at his brows, golden gaze studying him intently. He's not sure what she's looking for, though spots of white blank out a decent chunk of her face every time he blinks.

"Doesn't look like there was any damage," she takes a step back, "can you see properly?"

He squints and rubs his eyes. The white spots are still there, but getting smaller at least. He manages a small nod and she lets out a relieved sigh.

"Good."

He takes in the scene around her.

She's levelled a decent area of trees on the creek's shoreline. Some are uprooted entirely, others are sliced on angles. A few smaller ones have been completely crushed by massive trunks, and some haven't fallen entirely to the floor yet.

All of them have large chunks charred or carved out of them.

His gaze is drawn back to her as she wipes her face and inhales deeply before shaking her hands out and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She rolls her neck, crosses her arms, and looks up at him. "What's going on? What can I do for ya?"

He glances back in the direction of the house.

"Gray send you?" she asks.

He looks back to her.

"Yeah, I figured. More wheat, right?" She brushes her hands off on the thighs of her pants. "This always happens. He won't expand the field even when I tell him he can because he thinks 'we'll have enough next time' but _no_ ," she drawls, rolling her eyes, "he refuses because he's a stubborn baby."

She smiles. Eyes soft. Fond.

"Don't know what I'd do without him though," she says warmly.

Her gaze goes vacant, unseeing, straight ahead, yet not. The leaves rustle around them. Birds chirp. The water trickles over half submerged, jagged rocks.

She inhales sharply, loud, jerking out of her daze and shaking her body out violently. Deep, shuddering breaths even out. "Sorry. Spaced out for a second there. Let's go."

He follows a decent few feet behind her, keeping his distance but not straying too far or letting her out of sight. She moves slowly, but her steps are deliberate. Practiced. It's not the first time she's gone where he'd found her.

Obviously. Gray had told him where to find her. Duh.

So when she stumbles and pitches forward to her knees, he doesn't need to tug at the binding to figure out her emotions are all over the place. Hell, the trees were proof enough of that. And the tears.

She's not okay, and she's terrible at hiding it.

She doesn't look back at him, but he sees her bring a hand to her face briefly, and a quick exhale of air, thick with emotions. Blood pricks at his nose and he makes out a few shallow scrapes when she wipes them off again.

She continues back in the direction of the house.

He follows a little closer.

Gray's back in the field when they break away from the forest, whacking the tops of the wheat stalks against the inside of a barrel. He looks to be about a third of the way through with the discarded stems scattered next to him.

"You already seed and water?"

Gray's head snaps up at Lucy's question, and he nods. "Yeah. It's all ready."

"This is the third time, Gray," Lucy goes to stand in front of Gray, arms crossed. "When are we just going to make this field bigger?"

Gray barely sends her a glance before tossing away the emptied sheaf and grabbing another to start the process again. His movements are quick, assured, methodical. He doesn't even seem aware of what he's doing.

"When it needs to be bigger."

Lucy rolls her eyes, "Gray, the amount of familiars is only growing, no matter how many are off on their own. C'mon. When we have free time we just need to do it. We'll need it."

Gray pauses.

"How do you know?"

Lucy blinks at him.

"How do you know we'll need it?" he challenges, straightening up and looking down at her. "How do you know after this year's judgement we're all still going to be here?"

Lucy glares. "Do you have such little faith in me—"

Gray cuts her off. "I have _all_ the faith in the world in you, Lucy, but she's catching on! She's fucking figuring it out and if she does…"

Lucy shakes her head. "I'm not going to let that happen."

"How?" he asks again, tossing the sheaf on the ground. "You can't _do_ everything, Lucy, you're barely hanging on as is."

"I'm fine—"

"You're _not,_ " Gray advances on her and Lucy backs up. The set of Gray's jaw and hardness of his eyes is one unfamiliar to him.

Gray's hands come up to grip gently at Lucy's upper arms. "You're _not_ , Lucy. We both know you're not. You don't have to pretend you are."

Lucy shakes her head and pulls out of Gray's grasp, turning away. "It's fine. I'll be fine."

Gray follows. "Lucy, you need to let Yukino take on a few of the wanderers. She's gotten stronger, and—"

"No."

"Lucy—"

She whirls on him. "I _said no!_ "

A muted flash pulses, a faint echo of Lucy's silhouette before settling into a soft aura. Gray doesn't flinch, or back away, he simply reaches for her balled hands and wraps his fingers around her wrists.

"This is draining you, Lucy," Gray says, voice firm, "there's more damage to be done by keeping all of us than if you have a few transferred."

Lucy bows her head, "I can't, Gray."

"Yes you can."

"No!" Lucy yanks her hands free. "I can't….I can't _do_ that to them. To _any_ of you. You're not _things!_ I can't just ship you off because you're ' _inconvenient'_."

Again, Gray pulls at her wrists, "You know we would never think that. We all know the situation, we'd understand."

Lucy bites her lip. "I can't do it. I can't choose who's more expendable just because of how much magic you can or can't carry." She won't meet Gray's gaze even when he tilts his head down to try and catch hers.

He sighs, looking down, and cocks his head in the other direction as he flips her hands, palm up. The scrapes have started to bleed a little bit and Gray runs the backs of his fingers over them. He can see Gray trying to pull on his magic, but the second the cool air makes it to his fingertips, it dissipates.

Gray growls and mutters something under his breath before letting her hands drop.

"If you want to protect us," he says, "and if you don't want to end up dead, then you need to talk to Yukino about taking on a few bindings." He backs up from Lucy and reaches down to grab another thing of wheat. "Most of us will be here tonight, so if you don't bring it up and explain the situation, I will. It affects all of us. This is not the time to be stubborn."

Lucy doesn't answer. She instead backs up to the edge of the small wheat field and drops to her hands and knees. Her fingers curl, nails digging into the ground, and she closes her eyes.

Magic spirals around her fingers, tiny tendrils that swirl up and around to the backs of her hands before disappearing in the ground.

It only takes seconds for little bits of grass to poke up from the dirt, slowly, but surely. The longer it gets, the more the wind catches, and the bright green sways and rustles. The blades thicken and curl back before the colour fades and sprouts.

She doesn't look at Gray when she stands and turns.

"Fine," she says, and walks away.

There's no sound other than the whisper of the leaves as he sees her disappear into the house. The white is completely gone from his vision now, but he's starting to itch in his skin. He breathes deep, until his ribs hurts and his head swims and he doesn't feel anything crawling down his spine anymore.

A handle is shoved in his line of sight.

"Come on," Gray doesn't wait for him to take it, and he catches the scythe as it falls. "I still need to get through the rest of this pile. Can you cut that while I do?"

Gray's usual tenacity is all but gone and he keeps his eyes on the ground. Not in the mood to talk. Too many emotions.

The scythe is heavy in his hands as he swings, and when Gray's breath hitches once in awhile, he doesn't acknowledge it.

Being in pain is hard enough. Sometimes meddling makes it worse.

So he does what he can to make it easier. He works, slow and steady, side by side with Gray.

—

The sun is low by the time the grain is ground and the dough is kneaded and stuck in a row of stone bakers. It warms his face and he closes his eyes as the silence settles. The fires crackle, but they're easy to tune out, and his shins nearly burn from how close he is to the pits.

It's reassuring though. The peace.

So when a hand slaps him on the back and a loud voice sounds in his ear, he doesn't realize he has a hand around a neck and someone pinned to the side of the house until it's already too late.

"Woah there, newbie," she smirks, "at least buy a girl a drink before diving straight into the kinky stuff."

Long brown hair. Dark eyes. Flushed face. Ears, nose, eyebrow. Strong. Strong, but warm. Warm heart.

Familiar.

He jerks back and shoves his hands under his arms. She's not dangerous. She's not dangerous at all and he overreacted. He could have hurt her. He could have _killed_ her. He can't do damage with magic, but he can do damage with his hands. The scales that come out once in awhile aren't red naturally.

"Shit," the woman says softly, taking a step closer and he backs away. "Hey, it's okay. I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that, I wasn't thinking."

He shakes his head. He still should've been more in control of himself. He's a fucking dragon for fucks sake. He knows what a target is. He knows how to differentiate between familiar and witch. He knows. He does it all the fucking time. As far as he can tell he's fine right now, so what the fuck—

"I've done it too, yeah?"

She pulls him from his thoughts as she shuffles around in a small leather bag hanging from her belt. The sharp smell of alcohol reaches his nose as she pops open the lid of what looks like a water-skin and drains from it a few long times.

"You fight and you fight," she coughs into the crook of her elbow, "so you're always on the defensive, which works and is fine when you're in that environment." Dark eyes find his, staring, discerning. "Looks like you've been in it long enough for your body to develop a mind of its own, huh?"

That's not a fucking excuse for losing control of himself.

She pockets the booze and crosses her arms over the fabric of her bandeau. "Coming out of something like that and so suddenly being somewhere you don't have to react constantly is jarring for anyone. We've all had to learn to control our reflexes and adjust to being somewhere where not everyone is trying to kill us. You're looking for threats right now. You're expecting them."

…he's never really thought about it before.

"It'll lessen over time," she smiles, "and until it does, don't worry about it. We're all pretty strong, we can take a hit or two."

She sits down on the tree stump Gray'd been on earlier and folds in her legs, stretching her arms over her head and letting out a soft grunt. Thick red lines swirl and bend over her right forearm, solid symbols that boast hidden strength.

She's strong.

"You're crawling in your skin," she says, pulling him out of his observations. "You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, right?"

He blinks as she looks at him.

"You watch, and it's so foreign at first you're off guard. You can't move. You can't do anything other than what's asked of you because its so surreal you think you're dreaming." She definitely talks to Gray. They sound similar.

She waves her hand toward the other stump and he's hit with a huge wave of déjà vu. He sits.

"Then you get skittish." She pauses and shakes her head. "No, skittish is the wrong word. You get more antsy, because nothing's happening when you've always been so used to so much going on. Always on high alert. Survival instincts. Waiting for what the next thing is that's going to hurt you."

He bounces his knee against the ground and digs his hands into the wood of his seat to keep himself from bolting. From running somewhere and ripping things apart.

"It's exhausting," she sighs, slouching forward and holding her hands out to the nearby fire, "because you don't trust anyone. And because you feel safe, and the magic you're holding is…amazing…you're so not used to it that you don't trust your _self_." She looks over to him. "And that's the hard part. Because it's been just you for so long that you've always trusted yourself."

He swallows, hard, and focuses on the ground at his feet. Though the sun was gone, he could still focus on the texture of each blade of grass.

"But it passes," she breathes, and he can hear her smile. "You have the time and the freedom to figure yourself out, and learn about things you never knew existed. You have people around who have been through the same thing, and who were just as scared as you were."

She pauses and when she doesn't continue, he manages to look back to her.

"We know…what it's like," she tells him, eyes scanning over his face, and he has to fight the instinct to hide when he feels them all over his past bindings. "And I know you aren't going to trust us at first." She lets out a hard laugh. "I sure as hell didn't. Gray's got a few scars to prove it."

She smiles and lifts her forearm—the one without her sigil—to his eye level. A few gashes criss-cross the length of her arm, silver and faded. Old. "I've got mine too," she says.

He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a low hiss when his fingers brush over a tender area.

She zeroes in on his hand. "You alright?"

He blinks slowly and lowers his head the slightest bit.

She nods. "Okay, good."

"Cana!"

Her head snaps in the direction of the voice at Lucy bounding out of the house, light on her toes and a smile on her face.

"Lu!"

Lucy is immediately tackled to the ground in a mess of laughing and limbs until the new familiar has her pinned to the ground.

"Still gorgeous as ever, Lu," she snickers, "I wish you'd take me up on that date offer."

Lucy laughs, "Not sure your girlfriend would appreciate that, Cana."

The familiar, Cana, lets Lucy up. "I dunno, she's pretty open to a lot of different things—"

Lucy taps the top of Cana's head with the flats of her fingers, "Inappropriate!"

Cana stands and pulls Lucy back to standing, "It's been too long."

Lucy sighs, "It really has. It's good to see you."

The smile on Lucy's face is blinding, but soft, relief evident on her features. She looks exhausted, drained, but with someone else around definitely livelier and happier than she'd been earlier on in the day. Gray had been the same.

"So, I met your newbie," Cana says, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Where'd you find this one?"

And just like that, the smile on Lucy's face falters.

"Karen," Lucy answers.

Cana's expression sobers and she gives one hard nod. Her arms come up from her sides but Lucy presses a hand to her chest to keep her from moving to hug her.

Lucy's eyes are glassy, and squint when she smiles wide at Cana, all teeth, no cheeks. "I'm just glad I got to him in time." She looks to him and he starts. "Though he got kind of pulled into this with no explanation whatsoever."

Now Cana is looking at him too, soft smile warping into a playfully wicked grin. "Oh, I'm going to have so much fun with this one."

Lucy laughs, "He's overwhelmed. Be nice to him." She checks him over. "You'll come find me or Gray if you need something, yeah?"

Something in his expression must've told her something, because she finally flashes a genuine smile. "Good."

Cana throws an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into her chest and back toward the house, "I'm gunna show you so much shit. There are so many cool things of Lucy's around. I have a few bottles of sake somewhere I think, stuck where nobody would find them, so you can have one of those. There's this spot on the roof—"

She's warm with him. An arm around his shoulders, her own energy pulsing, Lucy's magic running through him. He settles.

He listens to Cana ramble on, and settles into his skin.

But he's not in it long before he needs to get out of it.

Evidently, Gray ripping out the wall was definitely necessary with how many familiars had ended up in Lucy's shack. They move in and out, sitting on the stone stairs, gathering around the indoor fire, fumbling around in the kitchen for spices and ingredients to make different flavoured butters for the bread. Someone brought meat that now sizzles over a grate indoors, and many more lounge around the stone bread bakers outside.

It's loud. It's chaotic.

It's disconcertingly mundane.

It's infuriating.

What are these guys even doing? Standing around, eating tons of bread until they're so stuffed their stomach hurts. He doesn't remember the last time his stomach hurt from eating too much, instead of from trying to digest itself. They're smiling, chatting like everything is right with the world and there aren't witches fucking with their kin until they do whatever it is that's asked of them.

What is he even doing here?

"Hi!"

He starts at the sudden presence next to him and rears back slightly. This familiar has her hands up, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," she says gently, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Hair, a darker pink than his, pulled into pigtails and deep blue eyes. Her smile is blinding as she rocks back and forth on her heels, arms dropping to link fingers behind her back. She's tiny. So young.

His heart breaks at the line of hoops trailing up the shell of her ear.

"Another pinky! We gotta stick together, y'know?" She beams.

He blinks and feels his face contort.

She gestures toward his hair with her chin. "The hair?"

Though he knows he won't be able to see it, he looks up anyway and runs a hand through it. He's not sure when his hair changed from black to pink, but he hadn't thought much about it. Not since…

He shakes his head and looks back to the girl in front of him.

"I'm Sherria," she sticks her hand out, "I was the newest before you, so I haven't been around too long in comparison to some of the others." She turns to look at the group, then back to him. "Yukino found me, but she already had Wendy, so Lucy was the one to take me on."

He cocks his head to one side. What is she even talking about?

Sherria mirrors his head movement as her hand drops. "Do you not know?"

His frown deepens.

Sherria frowns too. "Oh, you were an instant bind, huh?" she sighs. "I can't even imagine what must've happened for that to have to happen. Lucy and Yukino never do that."

He snorts out a growl and she snaps to attention instantly.

"I'm sorry," she bows her head slightly, "I ramble when I'm thinking and I'm not quite sure what's going on so I don't know what to say—"

 _Crack._

He whips around at the the sound, heart racing as his eyes zero in on one of the fires, crackling and sparking. It's just wood. Its just a fire.

"I'll leave you alone," she backs up from him with a waning smile, curling into herself. "I didn't mean to—"

He sticks his hand out.

It's closed, fingers curled into his palm, but its loose. She meets the back of his hand with a brush of hers and the anxiety fades from her.

He can breathe easier too.

 _Smack._

He whips around again. One familiar's got a hand on Gray's shoulder, both smiling widely. It's just a clap. It's just skin on skin.

"I'm gonna go get some bread," Sherria says, looking up at him. "Can I get you one?"

He nods absently and she dashes away into the house.

 _Slish._

That's the one he backs up for.

It's a large knife sliding through a slab of raw meat. He can see it. He knows it.

But his heart won't slow down.

There's too many people.

They're too bubbly.

They're too friendly.

They're too relaxed.

A trap. It's gotta be a trap.

Too many.

Too loud.

Too much.

Nobody's paying any attention to him when he moves back into the forest and bolts.

He doesn't know where he's going. His breathing rips down his throat until its raw, every new one scraping and clawing and dry. His blood rushes in his ears, pounding, throbbing, churning his head until it aches and won't stop. It feels like it's splitting but he can't stop. His ribs, neck, cheek, back, everything hurts, everything that's healed feeling like it's ripped open and fresh again.

When he staggers into a tree he digs his claws in and rips through the trunk to pull himself up. His feet are bare and scrape against the wood as he does so, but it doesn't hurt at this point. He can barely feel anything. A few birds scatter, fluttering off somewhere else as he hauls himself up on a large limb and lays down until he's wrapped his arms and legs around it in a vice grip.

He bites at his lower lip and presses his forehead into the cold of the branch and fights to get himself back under control. The bark digs into his skin, and that helps, so he presses his palms further into it and drags them along until it hurts.

It doesn't draw blood, but he feels it. It's real.

It grounds him.

He swallows, and his throat burns a little less, breathing coming a little slower, heart no longer racing. He can hear the water trickling over the stones nearby and focuses on that as he slumps and gives in to exhaustion.

He feels a prick of worry in Lucy's magic just before he passes out.

—

 _He wants to collapse._

 _The barrier pinning him to the cool, concrete brick won't let him._

 _His stomach churns, empty again, and he fights back the nausea._

 _Ironic. No food leaves him nauseous._

 _The moon breaks through the clouds, massive, full, the largest of the year yet and brighter than ever. It finds some of the cracks he otherwise wouldn't see at night, curls around bones in the corner of the room he's in. He swallows._

 _Winces._

 _The magic restraining him pushes in closer and a wheeze escapes his mouth before it lets up and he can cough. The movement causes small cuts and he grits his teeth. He's free to let his head hang now, so he does._

 _Footsteps scrape along the floor._

 _"You gunna submit today?" his binder lures._

 _He says nothing._

 _"Aw," she's closer now, he can smell death on her. "Now where's that silver tongue gone?"_

 _He suppresses a snarl._

 _His head is forced back against the wall, his jaw in her death-grip as she squeezes until he's got no choice but for it to pop open. He glares, straight eye contact, staring her down and he faintly registers her tongue curling so she can run the ball of her new piercing along her bottom lip._

 _It clacks against her teeth as she smiles._

 _"I should've swapped out brow for tongue months ago if it leaves you like this," she lets him go and crosses her arms, "so docile—"_

 _He spits in her face, all blood and saliva, and smirks._

 _She backhands him and the blade of his new binding cuts into his tastebuds._

 _Worth it._

 _The barriers around him tighten, crushing into his ribs and forcing all the air from his lungs. He curls his hands into fists and bites back tears as his body fights to breathe, but pulls at nothing. Black spots cloud his vision. His skin tingles in waves. His muscles start to slack._

 _A new barrier worms its way into his origin and_ pushes _._

 _There was no way to swallow that agony._

 _He feels it everywhere. His body burns, screams with each pump of his racing heart, only more frequent the more panicked he gets and faster it beats. His lips curl, his teeth gnash, his throat screams noiselessly. He fights the tears, but they escape._

 _The barriers leave._

 _He coughs violently, heaving in huge, staggered breaths as his sight returns to him. He has no strength left as he's dropped and crumples to the floor. Hands snap his head up by the horns, and feral anger fills his vision._

 _"You've had it easy so far," she says softly, defining each syllable of each word, "and I have been patient. So, very patient. But you are trying me." He can't be bothered to make a sound when she loosens her grip and his face meets the stone floor. "If you don't start to co-operate I'm going to bring someone else in to make you."_

 _He manages to meet her eyes._

 _"I know how much you care for your_ kin _," she sneers, spitting out that last word. "Maybe you'll co-operate if it's not you."_

 _Metal shrieks as she closes the gate to the room he's in and he lets the tears fall freely. Almost as an afterthought, he's pinned back up to the wall with her magic._

 _He can't. He can't do this anymore. If she brings in someone…if she makes him watch, he'll break._

 _He can't break. Not again._

 _Through the binding, he can feel her settling, most likely almost asleep if not sleeping already, so he pulls on her magic and fights the urge to puke. Her magic is thick sludge, black, destructive. He hates it._

 _But he'll need it._

 _His head is still swimming, and of the countless plans he's thought up on how to escape, since he has no idea what's outside of where he's been for…however long ago she'd found him, they don't seem to apply here._

 _He's the only one here, he knows that much at least. He's never met anyone else here, but he's felt them around before, heard them too. The binding keeps him pinned in the cell, but as soon as its gone he'll be able to blow the door open and get out without using up all the magic he's gathered._

 _He closes his eyes._

 _Now or never._

 _He pushes the blade in his tongue out, settles it in the grooves of his teeth, takes a deep breath._

 _He tears his tongue back in._

 _He falls._

 _—_

He lands flat on his back with a large root digging into his spine. He chokes at the impact and rolls over onto one side.

Sweat coats his whole body and the night air pricks at his skin. It soothes the raw dryness of his throat and fills him with ease. He rolls his neck to one side and rubs at the few vertebrae screaming at him.

Fuck that hurt.

He's okay. He's not there anymore. She's not here. She's not—

He's shoved into the ground by a wave of magic.

—here.

"What is Lucy trying to do," Karen snarls, forcing him deeper into the dirt, "trick me?"

He goes to bring his hands up and pull on Lucy's magic to let out a burst of fire, but before he even think about it they're twisted and forced under him.

"She send you out here as bait?" Karen cocks her head to one side, hovering over him. "Seems a little weird to save you yesterday and dangle you out here today."

His breathing becomes more laboured when she toys with the hoop freshly embedded within the cartilage of his left ear and a feral snarl rips up his still-raw throat.

"I didn't know that bindings were connected," she says, nails tugging lightly at the curved metal. "So when I woke up to mine being ripped out I wasn't sure what was happening. I didn't think a tongue one would be any different, but apparently it allows for more freedom than I thought."

Her eyes narrow, studying him.

"I wonder," she muses, tugging at it, "if I'm the one to rip it out, does it stop working?"

He tilts his chin up and bares his teeth. He snaps at her.

"Ah, ah, ah," Karen backs off, just barely, "attack me and you put your witch at risk, and you wouldn't want _that_ , would you?"

Liar.

He snaps at her again.

Karen's answering grin is manic, "Oh, I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Bitch.

 _Bitch._

 _BITCH._

He fights against Karen's barrier magic, straining, uncaring of the retearing of his body, snarling. Fucking _bitch_. Starved him. Fucked with him. Tortured him. Everything she did. She made him give in. She did this to him. _She_ did this to him and he has magic now. He can hurt her. He can kill her.

Needs to die.

Needs to die.

Needs to _fucking die._

The barrier disappears and he lunges for her throat.

His teeth meet flesh only for a second before he's shoved back and shielded from a blinding flash. He hears Karen curse and he struggles against the body that stopping him from fighting. From killing.

He pulls on magic and flails, claws, snarls. He hears crackling, and burning, and he smells blood. He feels pressure come around him and pin his arms to his sides. His teeth sink into something, rough and sour against his tongue and he struggles. He tries to rip away but the pressure only grows. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like it. It's restraining him it's…

Soft.

His shoulders stop jerking as he comes back to his body and his jaw goes slack. He pants heavily, laboured, and slumps back against something.

He's upright, and when his head clears enough for him to listen to his surroundings, he makes out a faint murmuring.

"It's okay," is whispered. "You're okay. You're going to be okay. She doesn't have you. I have you. It's okay. You're safe now. You're never going back there. I've got you. Shhhh."

He sinks into the arms. Into the warmth. Into the comfort, until hands push him back and away and all he sees is gold, lidded eyes, glassy and exhausted.

Karen lays on the ground, unconscious, and Lucy's stands front of him, reassuring.

"Damn," she says slowly, and her words slur. "Didn't know dragons used so much magic."

Her eyes roll back and flutter shut as she falls through his arms.

* * *

 _I was not expecting it to be this long..._

 _-xb_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Holy shit you guys are so patient with me thank you so much. I'm so glad you enjoyed the first chapter and I'm sorry this one isn't longer. I've had some serious struggles in my personal life the past few months and only just coming out of them, but I'm super excited to share this chapter with you guys 3_

 _Big shoutouts to my friends who have been listening to me continuously bitch about how hard this story is turning out to be for reasons you will find out in this chapter.  
_

 _And a big thanks to all of you who've been waiting on this for sticking with me. You're all amazing ^^ *hugs!_ *

* * *

He catches her purely on instinct, dropping hard to his knees and cradling her head. He's still reeling. Karen is two feet away. He's not quite back in his body yet.

He feels Lucy's magic fluctuate and withdraw from his fingertips.

It's waning.

He hoists her up into his lap and pulls her legs around his waist. Her back is damp and her cloak is shredded. He bites his lip at that. He doesn't want to think about how it got that way. He can't think about that right now.

He fumbles with the fabric and wraps the thickest strands under her thighs to knot them tight at his back. The thinner strands he spirals around her torso with as much pressure he can manage without tearing it, and one he rips free to bind her wrists so he can loop them around his neck. Its the best he can do.

It'll have to work.

He uses her weight to his advantage, balancing as rolls back on his heels to stand. She's not as heavy as he'd expected. Her head falls to his shoulder, breath ghosting over the skin of his neck in shallow puffs. Shallow but steady. Heart beat strong. Too slow, but still strong.

His is still pounding.

Karen's still. Right. There.

He swallows back a snarl, tightens his arms around Lucy, and tears his gaze away. Karen has her magic, and Lucy like this means neither of them can use anything against her if, god for-fucking-bid, she wakes up.

He needs to get out of here.

He's gunna be in so much shit. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He fucking runs and panics and hurts her and uses so much fucking magic that she passes out and Karen is _right. Fucking. There._

What the _hell_ is Karen doing here?!

He doesn't know where he is, but he can smell where Lucy'd come from and does his best to follow her trail back to the house as quickly as he can without jarring her too much. He stumbles whenever her magic weakens, but it comes back the very next second.

Her scent continues to fade, and he barely has time to worry about whether it's going to disappear entirely before Gray's panicked voice carries through the trees.

" _Lucy! What the fuck is going on?!"_

Gray bursts through the treeline and comes to a standstill, gaze skittering over every inch of Lucy wrapped around him. He knows he looks like a mess. He's frantic. His hands are slick, and though its dulled and dry, the smell of blood surrounds him.

Gray's expression darkens instantly. "What happened?"

He lowers a shoulder so Lucy's hair is out of his face and sticks out his tongue. The healing nerves of the split still feel raw, but he moves both sides anyway and pulls on one of his lip rings with his teeth.

Gray's jaw hardens in acknowledgement and his anger turns murderous. "If Karen's here, we need to go and we need to go now," he spits.

Then he turns and sprints.

Lucy's legs are falling low around his hips, but he doesn't want to move and risk opening anything that's stopped bleeding, so he bounces on his heels to heft her up before following Gray's hastily retreating form. It's only about a minute more before he's back at the house.

Everyone's moving around, and Gray's yelling.

"Whoever's using magic for anything that isn't necessary, stop! Whoever has ongoing background spells in progress, cut them off! Push everything you've got back to Lucy! The only one other than her using magic should be Cana!"

Gray's running through the group of familiars, and all of them are cleaning up and pulling everything back into the house. Fires are being stomped out, supplies for food and baking put back in the house. Every possible trace of the evening's celebration is wiped from the grounds, with everyone only just barely glancing at Lucy in his arms.

Gray starts pushing people into the house but keeps calling over his shoulder. "Cana, divert everything you've got to the barrier around the house! The perimeter is gone! Everyone get inside _now!"_

Gray rushes over to him and grabs his shoulder, pulls him off to one side and makes a sharp gesture. It's only a few seconds before Cana's there.

"Where did you and Freed agree on the warp this time?" he asks, hushed.

"That rock by the stream," she answers.

"Key?"

"Bit of blood from everyone passing through."

Gray nods, "Okay, you got this?"

Cana smirks, "You really asking me that?"

Gray claps her where her neck meets her shoulder and gives it a slight squeeze. "You'd do the same."

Cana grips Gray's wrist briefly before letting their hands drop. "I know." She makes for the house, walking backwards. "I've got them. She won't find us. We'll be here when you get back, okay? All of us."

Gray nods and Cana leaves.

Gray then turns to him.

"C'mon. We need to get her to Wendy. Now."

Gray takes off into the the trees and he follows closely behind, knees high over roots, and bent low beneath hanging branches. He recognizes the route as they come into the half-destroyed clearing Lucy'd been when he'd gone to get her. Gray rounds one of the splintered trunks and waves him over.

His eyes further adjust to the shadows, and a large, jagged rock with a concave, bowl-like center.

Gray rests one foot on a smoother part of the rock and pulls a knife from his boot. "We're not the only group like this," he says, bringing the blade to his palm. "There's Yukino and her familiars too." Gray pulls, and the smell of fresh blood reaches his nose. "Since we can't use magic on each other when bound to the same witch, dividing us up so we have one of each on either side was our best option."

Gray holds the knife out to him. "I need some of your blood."

He swallows and nods, and Gray makes a small nick in the meat of his shoulder. Just enough to bead up, spill over, and coat the top of the serrated edge.

"Cana is our barrier magic familiar. Freed is theirs." Gray swipes gently and Lucy's back with his other hand. "They not only put up the walls that keep us hidden, they make warp gates together for us to get back and forth. Freed so we can get through, and Cana so they can get through." He juts his chin down to the rock. "Sit. This might make you nauseous."

He sits at the same time Gray does and pulls Lucy close. Gray rubs his hands together, leans down, and wipes them along the sides of the rock.

A bright golden-blue light ignites instantly, rolling over the red that darkens the stone, enveloping the streaked palm prints, and then the whole rock. It tingles as it reaches him and he closes his eyes when his stomach churns at the sudden violent tug. His skin feels like it's being pricked from all sides, through all layers, and his lungs scream and pull for air but he can't get any.

The light builds and then vanishes, and with the darkness once again he can breathe. He barely has any time to recover before Gray is yanking him up from the stone and pushing him along.

 _"_ Yukino! _"_

Gray moves ahead, breaking into a light jog, and so he doesn't lose sight of Gray, he follows at the same speed. He digs toes into dirt to keep upright when his legs threaten to give out and keeps pushing. He pulls Lucy closer.

 _"Yukino!"_

The area they break into this time at first glance seems empty, but the slam of a door draws attention to lights flickering within a gathering of what looks to be vines. Moonlight catches on a bright white shock of hair, and a large, silver, spindly sigil encasing the entirety of the familiar's left arm.

"Lyon," Gray grits out, "where's Yukino?"

He's a mirror reflection of Gray in everything but his expression. His eyes flick between Gray's advancing pace and Lucy, but when they land on him, his face only darkens. Wisps of water vapour swirl around one hand as he sizes them all up.

"Lyon."

The wisps swirl within Lyon's palm, steadily gaining in size and speed, crystallizing with an aura of intent that has him clutching at Lucy and freezing in place.

" _Lyon._ "

It grows.

 _"Lyon!"_

Lyon's eyes bore down, unwavering.

Gray grabs Lyon's wrist and twists it downward so fast Lyon doesn't have time to avoid it. He can only react after the fact and shove Gray away, clutching his hand to his chest. "What the _fuck,_ Gray?"

"We don't have time for your shit right now," Gray turns to him and waves him over. He starts back up the hill. "Lucy's hurt. Where the hell are Yukino and Wendy?"

Lyon ignores him. "Who's he?"

"Lyon, are you kidding me right now—"

"Who's the guy, Gray?!"

Gray ignores him and pushes past, _"Yukino!"_

With a flick of the wrist, the air condenses and freezes, wrapping around Gray in a vice grip. The ice swells, etches into scales, spikes, and talons before a snarling, fanged, horned head materializes, moving in to stare at Gray with glowing white sclerae.

Lyon comes to stand beside the animated ice with the same white eyes. "He did this. I can smell it. You think I'm letting him anywhere _near_ Yukino and Wendy?"

"We don't have _time_ for this!" Gray struggles in Lyon's grip and the ice dragon bares its teeth with a loud, rumbling growl. Its eyes flash and it hisses strongly enough to freeze Gray's hair back from his face.

Lyon's hold tightens, and air wheezes from Gray's lungs.

A low snarl builds in his throat. What the fuck is this guy doing to Gray? Why are they here if he's just going to do this and not help?

"Lyon, let him go."

The glow fades from Lyon's eyes as the soft voice washes over. The ice loosens around Gray but still holds him in place. Lyon doesn't make a move to release him entirely.

" _Lyon._ "

He shudders as the gentle sound waves curl and roll down the length of his spine. It seems to have the same effect on Lyon and Gray as all the tension leaves their shoulders and Gray is released.

He feels a slight prodding at his heart, throat, nose and eyes, and he feels so full a few tears escape, and with it, the fear and guilt clawing in his chest dissipates. He can roll his shoulders and the weight is gone briefly before the imposing magic vanishes.

Empathic magic.

The witch stands in the door, one arm across her chest to hold onto the other. She stares at him curiously, dark eyes scanning, and he feels a gentle brush at the inside of his forehead. He flinches back at that and she pulls away immediately, an apology evident on her features. Short, white hair falls across her face as she bows briefly before righting herself. She doesn't break eye contact during the exchange and he can't look away.

"It's safe. Let them in."

He manages a blink.

Lyon stiffens. "Yukino, he—"

"We all have at some point, Lyon," Yukino looks to Lyon, and Lyon immediately straightens. "Your concern is appreciated but there are more important things to consider right now, like what will happen if Lucy dies."

Yukino looks back to him and Gray.

"Let's go. Get her inside."

—

Whereas Lucy's home is a stone and wood cottage, Yukino's is a winding underground network of torch-lit, earthen corridors that shift. The fire flickers and glints off the dirt, flash-frozen in a similar way to Gray's cigarettes with an ice that cannot melt simply through outside heat.

Every few walls or so, Yukino gives a quick knock, a new pathway opens, and another closes. With how quickly they're moving, he can't keep track of where they've been, not that he thinks he'd be able to do that anyway.

It doesn't take long to come to a door that Gray nearly rips off its hinges to get inside.

The room is small, lit by light trapped within round glass, hanging from the ceiling. Shelves line the space, full of jars, wrapped fabrics, basins, cloths. There's a tall cot in the center of the room.

He hasn't even made a step toward it before Yukino's at his side, slicing at Lucy's cloak to free her. When he starts walking she doesn't stop him, just follows alongside, continuing to cut.

Gray darts around, pulling various items from shelves and lining them up on the counter. The calm mask and tone he'd managed to keep up until now cracks. "Yukino, where's Wendy?"

Yukino moves to his back and he feels Lucy's arms go slack around his neck. They still hook over his shoulders, so she should be fine, but he moves a fisted hand higher up her back anyway to keep her from falling.

"She's been on an assignment the past week," Yukino answers. He feels another tug, and one of Lucy's thighs drops down his waist. He catches it with his free hand and lowers her feet—one by one as Yukino frees her—to the ground gently. "Checked in about an hour ago. Should be back any minute."

More hands crowd him, this time Gray, as they all maneuver Lucy to lie face down on the sheets. He and Yukino make quick, practiced work of prepping Lucy. Fingers to her neck for a pulse. Back of the hand to her nose for her breathing. Pulling her hair up and away from her back and the shredded remnants of what was once clothing.

He balls his hands up and crosses his arms to hide them.

Yukino reaches for a stack of bandages on one of the higher shelves, "It's dried by now, can you—"

Gray's already grabbing a basin. "Got it."

They move around the room, Yukino cutting away what she can from Lucy and Gray getting ice from Lyon that Yukino warms and then sponges onto Lucy's back.

The smell of blood fills the air and he covers his nose.

Bit by bit, Gray and Yukino peel the tattered cloak apart, working it gently out of the dried blood and deep gashes in Lucy's back. The wounds don't re-open, Yukino makes sure of that, and the more skin they expose the less he can look at her. They're thick. Deep. Bright and dark red at the same time.

They match his still-streaked fingers.

He can't look anymore.

He instead stares at the ground and focuses on isolating out the sounds of her breathing. They're barely audible, slow and gentle, but there. He struggles to match them.

"Okay," Yukino's voice finally breaks the prolonged silence. "Get out."

His head snaps up.

So does Gray's.

"What?"

Yukino looks to Gray. "You heard me. Out. I have to get her out of her clothes and ready for Wendy. It's not just her wounds that need healing, She needs an origin infusion and—"

Gray is having none of it.

"I have _seen_ her naked, Yukino," he growls, "does that really matter when—"

" _Out!"_

The word shocks through his system, scraping through every nerve. His whole body tenses, freezing in place for only a second before flipping to the urge to bolt.

Gray still hasn't moved. "Yukino—"

"Wendy'll be here any second. Lucy is stable. If she were more critical then I wouldn't care, but she's not." Yukino levels Gray with a dark stare. "So, go. All of you. I can't continue until you do."

Gray spins on his heel and stalks out.

Lyon's answering smirk doesn't go unnoticed.

"You too, Lyon."

That wipes it right off his face. "Hey—"

 _"Go!"_

They're barely out in the hall before the door slams behind them and the only sound left is the crackling of the fire along the walls. He backs up against the closed door and sidles into a nearby corner, as far as he can manage from the room, light, and ice-demon familiars. Gray's shoulders finally hunch in. He's exhausted.

"I hate it when she does that." Gray rubs at his eyes before combing his fingers through his hair. "Influencing emotions is one thing. Projecting them into words is another."

Lyon on the other hand, is riled up to spring. He stands stock-still, roiling with…something. Anger. Humiliation. Resentment? It burns behind his eyes. Locks his jaw. Pulls magic to his palms.

Whatever it is, he doesn't hold onto it for long before taking it out on Gray.

"She wouldn't have to if it weren't for you." Lyon snarls. He curls his hands into fists, extinguishing the wisping frost. "Start talking."

Gray glares. "I don't owe you shit—"

Lyon cuts him off with carefully articulated words. "You came into _my_ area, with a familiar we've never met, _covered_ in Lucy's blood. You owe me exactly what I asked for." Lyon's upper lip curls. His canines grow…what looks like subconsciously. "What the hell happened."

It's not a question.

Gray tilts his chin up and doesn't say a word.

Lyon sizes him up. Gray's face fixes into an expressionless mask. The air grows heavy, and it feels even harder to breathe than before. If Gray says something, and Lyon sees him as a threat…is Lucy going to throw him back to Karen?

What are they even doing?

Lyon seems to find what he's looking for because it only takes a few seconds for his anger to morph into disbelief. "You don't know."

Gray visibly bristles at that, "It's not your—"

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me, Gray?" Lyon gestures wildly, looking away from Gray to lock eyes on _him_. He swallows at the hatred there. "He tries to _kill_ her and you bring him _in_?!"

"He wouldn't—"

Lyon doesn't spare Gray a glance. He's not listening anymore. Doesn't care. Lyon just refocuses and advances.

He presses farther into his corner.

"What the hell did you do?" Lyon's hands swirl with magic again. Curled, open, unbridled, crackling at the fingertips. The glow comes back to his eyes. The snarl to his lips.

He presses his own into a thin line and fights the instinct to pull on magic. He can feel Lucy's pulsing. Still weak, but stronger than it had been. He can't…he can't do that…again…

"What happened?" Lyon presses.

He has no idea.

He says nothing.

Lyon lunges.

Lyon's out of his face quicker than he can blink and Gray's back fills his vision. Gray's face contorts and he lets out a grunt as ice encases his entire left side, arm to shoulder and ribs.

"Talk!" Lyon yells, ignoring Gray and lunging for him a second time. Lyon's iced hand once again makes contact with Gray's side, and Gray hisses before forcing Lyon away with a shove from his free shoulder.

"Leave him _alone_ , Lyon!"

He doesn't deserve to be left alone.

"What did you _do?!"_

He doesn't know.

"This is _not_ how we deal with things!"

He had no control.

 _"Talk, dammit!"_

What did he do?

 _"He doesn't talk!"_

The hallway goes silent.

And blissfully, so does his mind.

He hadn't even noticed he hasn't said anything…

The binding had closed his throat, a latched on vice. Every time he tried to speak, it dug deeper into his tongue. He'd only managed a day of his usual backtalk before he had to stop. There'd been too much blood loss…especially without any food or water.

He'd ripped his tongue in half. It was a damn miracle in itself that he'd noticed he could move the bar back and forth with his teeth within the slit his talking had created. In all his decades he'd never encountered a piercing a familiar could touch or move. This one he could.

His tongue was still sore. Healed on the surface, but still difficult to move. Physically, there was no reason he couldn't form words. It's not like he doesn't want to.

He just…can't.

He wants to…fuck does he want to. But it won't come. The words don't come. His muscles tense. His throat goes raw. His heart pounds. It gets hard to breathe.

He just… _can't_.

Lyon breaks the silence.

"He doesn't talk."

"No."

Lyon's gaze narrows. "What are you even talking about?"

Gray lets out a heavy, impatient sigh. "He doesn't _talk_. That's exactly what I'm talking about."

Lyon closes his eyes and bows his head, rubbing at his brow with the heel of his palm. "What the hell does that even _mean_ he doesn't talk? You don't just _not_ talk. It's not a luxury we can afford—"

"We don't _know_ , Lyon," Gray grits his teeth and digs his fingers into the ice, prying a chunk away from his ribs. "He hasn't said a word since he's been with us, and it's not our place to make him."

"Then how do you know he isn't just keeping quiet because he's—"

" _Look_ at him," Gray steps to the side, and Lyon's in full view again. "Do you seriously think he's going to hurt anyone?"

Lyon's gaze flickers to his bloody hands. He doesn't look impressed. "He has."

Gray sighs. "He's freaked out. He was bound to _Karen_ , Lyon. For who knows how long."

At Karen's name he clenches his jaw and curls fingers into claws. She'd been right there. Right. Fucking. There. He could've—

"Shit," Lyon breathes.

His head snaps up to Lyon.

Lyon runs a hand through his hair and dissipates the remainder of the ice around Gray's arm. "Why the hell didn't you lead with that?"

"You didn't let me," Gray deadpans.

Lyon sighs and moves to lean against a wall, arms crossed. "What _do_ you know?"

Gray turns to him. "You okay with me talking?"

He levels his head. He doesn't have an issue with it. And even if he did, it'd be forced out of Gray one way or another eventually.

Gray turns to Lyon.

"Last night, Lucy was out following a lead on Karen that actually turned out," Gray starts, backing up against the wall opposite Lyon. "She found her chasing _this one—_ " Gray juts his chin to him "—half dead, and Karen was about to bind him _again_. She would have if Lucy hadn't intercepted."

Lyon sinks further into the wall, scrutinizing Gray. "How do you know she didn't let him loose to lure you in? You can't rip bindings out of skin."

Gray looks to him again.

He sticks out his tongue, wiggles both sides, and pulls it back in.

"He had a blade bind. Ripped it out himself to get away." Gray explains, turning back to Lyon. "The current theory Lucy and I are going with is, if sharp enough, you can remove bindings from muscle. Not skin."

Lyon rubs at his eyes. "He was bound instead of properly recruited."

"He was half-dead when Lucy found him. She didn't have much of a choice."

Lyon quiets.

The ground reverberates. Just slightly. A hall passage or two changing a little ways away. He can feel it tickle the soles of his bare feet and back from where he's leaned.

The fire pops.

Lyon looks up at Gray. "So, you know nothing about him, is what you're telling me. Are you seriously that irresponsible?"

Lyon's voice is ice.

His stomach sinks and this time, he doesn't suppress a snarl. Who the hell is _this_ guy to say shit like this to the people only trying to help? What the fuck is _wrong_ with him?

Lyon's gaze snaps over and he tilts his head up, challenging. "You got something to say, slash?"

Gray's expression turns murderous. "Don't call him that."

"That's what he _is_ , isn't he?"

Instantaneously, Gray's got Lyon pinned up with a forearm to his neck one second, and flinching at a knee to his gut the next. Ice crackles and covers the arm at Lyon's throat as he claws at it, but Gray doesn't flinch, just digs in deeper.

Lyon can't move.

"Check your privilege," Gray snarls.

He pulls back from Lyon and Lyon crumples to the ground, hand pressing to his mouth as violent coughs rip from him. His breathing wheezes as he gets to his hands and knees to sit cross-legged, back against the wall.

Lyon looks about to say something but Gray cuts him off.

"You're a familiar. Just like him. You know what most witches are like." Gray moves to loom over Lyon. "Give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Why should I?" Lyon's voice sounds, quiet and hoarse. He lets out another painful cough.

Gray crouches in front of Lyon, rocking back on his heels. The visible rage melts, giving way to a cold, calculating stare that has Lyon's breathing halting. He rolls his jaw, tilts his head to one side, and shifts forward onto his toes, face inches from Lyon's. One brow lowers and his nose scrunches for only a millisecond, but there's no doubt about the disbelief and disgust shown.

When Gray speaks, the words carry such weight they may as well have come from Yukino.

"Are you so far removed from your past, that you don't remember what it's like?"

Lyon stills.

Gray slowly tilts his head to the other side. "You once told me, your witch before Yukino would use her magic to drag you into the line of fire to defend herself. That to prep you for that, she'd throw you into walls to build up your ice's durability. That when your ice failed, you would break half the bones in your body and be left to heal on your own."

Gray grabs at the fabric of Lyon's shirt and pulls him up to eye level.

"Are you telling me," he sneers, "that you can't remember what being bound like that—" Gray points to _him_ "—what bound like _he_ was, was like?"

Lyon says nothing.

"You and I were fortunate enough to have only had a few bindings, _decades_ ago, Lyon," Gray drops him, and Lyon lets out a soft grunt. "He's had at least a dozen and has only had a few _hours_ away from them. And even then, he isn't free because he doesn't believe yet that he is." Gray stands and Lyon refuses to look at him as he does.

"So cut him some fucking slack," he finishes.

Gray backs up to the wall opposite Lyon's and slides down to the ground. He bites his lip before flinging his ice-covered arm against the wall to shatter a decent amount, enough to start chipping away at it.

With a flick of his wrist, Lyon dissipates the remainder of the ice.

"Didn't need you to do that," Gray grunts, pulling his knees up and slinging his arms over them.

Lyon shrugs. "Whatever."

They can hear a bit of murmuring from within the infirmary, a voice of a different timbre joining Yukino's. He cocks his head to one side as he eyes the door. Where'd the voice come from?

"You two fighting again?"

His head snaps up.

Red eyes glow beneath a low-pulled hood, and the imposing presence of disappointment is suffocating. Wrists encased in circular sigils come up to pull the fabric back and deep pink hair tumbles down over shoulders.

Another familiar.

"Meredy," Lyon lets his head loll back against the dirt and flinches when it hits a touch too hard. "When did you get back?"

"Just now." Meredy shifts all her weight to one foot and hooks a hand on her hip. Her head snaps over at a loud clang from the room and then the slightly raised voices. "Wendy's back too then?" she asks.

"Sounds like it. Probably came in the back halls." Lyon shifts to crouching and pushes himself to his feet. The glance thrown his way this time is full of a lot less malice before it falls to Gray.

Lyon looks like he wants to day something, but turns around instead.

"C'mon, Meredy," he says, walking just past her, "let's get your debriefing over with."

Meredy follows behind Lyon, but quickly glances over her shoulder.

"Lucy attacked by a new one again then?" she asks, quiet.

It's all he manages to make of their conversation before a wall shifts and he's left with his thoughts.

And his thoughts really hate him right now.

Lyon was right. He's a slasher. A fighter. A killer.

He's a weapon.

He's a weapon, and he'd carved into one of the only people he'd ever met who seemed to care about _anything_ that wasn't themselves or money or power. And he…he couldn't even remember it. He didn't know how it had happened…just that it did.

What the hell kind of person is he to be responsible for something like this and not even remember having done it?

A firm double-pat to the face pulls him from his thoughts.

Gray's crouched in front of him.

"There ya are," the hand moves to his shoulder, "you alright?"

…he doesn't know how to answer that.

Gray shakes his head to himself. "Dumb question. Of course you're not."

With a heavy sigh, Gray falls to sitting, mirroring his cross-legged seated stance.

…when had he sat down?

He rubs at his forehead and eyes. Fuck, he really is losing his mind.

"It's not your fault."

He looked at Gray with the most deadpan expression he can manage.

"Oh don't give me that look," Gray returns the glare, "it's not. Nobody will think it is, least of all Lucy."

His eyes flicker over to where Lyon just was and Gray's gaze follows his for only a second before he scoffs.

"Lyon's a fucking idiot sometimes," he says. "Lately, he's been dealing with familiars we're rehabilitating that have been flipped. Brainwashed to the point of being a threat. When they attack, they mean it and they kill."

He blinks at Gray before looking down. Witches are ruthless. Though all the familiars he's come in contact with so far have always fought against the binding, or been complacent to protect themselves or someone they care about, he'd never met one who'd switched sides completely.

He'd never heard of that happening.

He can't even imagine what they'd have to have been through for that _to_ happen.

"I'm not making an excuse for him," Gray continues, "because he's a fucking dick sometimes. But it doesn't come from a malicious place. He just doesn't always think."

Hmn.

Gray shifts to lean against the wall closest to him and close his eyes for a minute. "You don't deserve that though. So, I'm apologizing for him. We don't blame you. Lots of us have done it…" he trails off.

The fire crackles.

He barely hears it when Gray speaks again.

"Some of us worse than others."

—

It seems like both hours, and only seconds when the door finally creaks open and Yukino peers out to wave them over.

"Wendy's done the initial healing. You can come in now."

Gray springs up and looks like it causes him physical pain to not bolt right after Yukino as she disappears back into the room, instead glancing back down to him and offering a hand.

He shakes his head. He can't yet.

Gray nods, "Come in when you're ready," and slips away.

He pulls his knees up to his chest and presses his forehead into them.

What's he even supposed to do? Would she want to see him anymore? Would she throw him back to Karen for hurting her? They say that she wouldn't and all seem to understand him but it only takes a split second for everything to change. He could find himself abandoned in another witch's territory in a flash. Literally. They've got familiars specializing in warps. Those ones are dangerous.

Fucking hell.

He swallows the bile climbing up his throat and pushes himself to standing. Better to get it over and done with. Worrying only makes him suffer even longer.

He gently pulls at the door, careful not to let his anxiety get the better of him and end up gouging giant chunks out of the wood. Not the first time his fear has gotten to him in a destructive way, but it had been awhile. He'd been more unstable in the past twenty-four hours than the past twenty-four years…and then some.

The voices are soft enough he can't hear them from where he's standing, and soft enough still he can make out Lucy's breathing, stronger and more even than a few hours ago. That eases the acid churning in his chest and he lets out a low breath before inhaling in relief.

He turns to stone at the scent that hits him.

He can't move.

His gaze narrows in at the newest figure in the room, the owner of the new voice, hovering by Lucy's head with fingers buried in blonde locks. They emit a faint glow as they comb through and prod around Lucy's brow, ears, jaw. Long blue hair pulled up into pigtails. Eyes focused.

He falls to his knees.

His whole body goes numb.

Then those eyes are on him.

Everything fades. He can't hear anything. He can't taste the air. He can't feel the cold of the floor. All he can see are those eyes and all he can smell is her.

And then her hands are on his face, wiping at his cheeks, and looking him all over and he can't _breathe_. He can't breathe because her arms are wrapped around his neck in a vice grip and her tears are soaking into the skin of his shoulder and her crying is echoing in his ears and she's _warm_.

She's _alive_.

And then he's holding her with everything he's got, hands curled into fists and arms hanging on because there's no way this can be real. There's no way. She _can't_ be alive. She can't be _here_. She's _dead_.

But her heart is racing and she's very nearly squeezing him to death and—

"Nii-san, nii-san, nii-san."

They cling.

He has to be dreaming.

His senses come back in waves. A word here, a sound there. A flicker of light catching his attention and then the slight sour taste of disinfectant in the air. It grounds him. Almost as much as the ache in his knees from dropping to the stone as hard as he did.

"Wendy?"

The call comes from Yukino, and she pulls back from him to answer. He doesn't catch what she says. He can't, because tears prick his eyes.

Tears prick his eyes.

Because she has a name now.

She looks back to him and he cradles her cheeks in his hands. Wiping the tears. He tilts her face back to him. Nose. Lip. He scans the shells of her ears. Still empty with the exception of a conch on her right side. The only new one is the conch, and a quick glance to Yukino tells him it's her active one.

She was freed. She was safe. No new witches after the one they'd had. She'd been spared.

Wendy.

It suits her.

"You're alive," Wendy breathes, breaking into a blinding smile. "You're _alive_."

He should be the one saying that.

"What happened?" Wendy asks, sitting back on her heels. "One minute, you're going off with the rest of the them to a fight, and the next the cabin's in chaos and everyone's freaking out because of the attack and—" she bites her lip and shakes her head.

He remembers.

He remembers their witch at the time. What she did to him. What he made sure she did to _him_ so she wouldn't do it to Wendy. What he did _for_ her to protect the younger familiar. He would have done anything.

He did…do _anything_. To save her.

And their witch at the time had killed her anyway.

Wendy was supposed to be dead.

"What happened?" she asks again, and he shakes his head. He can't. He can't tell her. Even if he could make his lips move, she can't know. She'd blame herself when it was entirely his decision and actions that led to the revolt in the first place. To that fight that had killed so many of their own and so many others.

He taps her twice, just below the dip of her collarbone. What happened to him isn't important. What happened to _her_ , is.

She tilts her head to one side. "What—"

"Wendy," Yukino looks back and forth between him and Wendy, "you know him?"

Wendy's attention diverts back to Yukino and she nods, still smiling. "Yeah. Remember the dragon I told you about? The one who was bound to the witch I had before you found me?"

Yukino's eyes widen. "You said he died?"

Wendy lets out a wet laugh. "We got separated, and I could feel so many of us die through the binding before our witch got killed. I felt a few really strong familiars disappear until I was the only one left and when I went back I couldn't find him. Someone told me he died." She looks back to him. "I guess he didn't."

Her smile falls then as she looks at him. Really looks at him.

"Oh my god," her voice cracks.

Fingers trace over the angel bites, his lip ring, the cuff on his right ear and the cross hanging from his right lobe. She chews at the inside of her cheek as she looks to the hoops hanging from his larger horns. She doesn't dare touch them and he's grateful. Of all his bindings, those are the ones that are the most sensitive. The most agonizing even though inactive.

"What…"

The last time he'd seen her, he'd only had the three hoops in the shell of his left ear.

"I've…I've never…" She can barely speak.

He looks away.

He knows.

"There's so many."

He knows.

"I've never seen that many."

He knows.

"What happened?"

He shakes his head again and looks away.

"Nii-san," she moves back into his field of vision, body tilted to one side so she can't be avoided, "what happened?"

He can't. In more ways than one.

Evidently her focus shifts from his piercings to his neck since he finds her prodding at the haphazardly sewn gouges with a light touch. "Hm. Lucy did a good job."

The heat that emanates from her fingertips makes his skin tingle with pins and needles, a flash of pain and then complete absence. She repeats the process with his cheek before moving her hands just under his jaw to press at his soft spot.

She swallows and her voice shakes. "Open up."

He clenches his jaw.

"Nii-san." Her gaze darkens, forceful. "Open. Up."

He bows his head and uncurls his tongue.

Wendy bites her lip and finishes up the job Lucy had started within seconds. He can't help the swell of pride he feels at her mastery of her magic. She'd only been tinkering around with it when he'd first met her, and now she doesn't even have to think about it. There's no furrow between her brows, or narrowing of her eyes. It's effortless.

She's so strong.

When her hands move to check his origin, he snatches at her wrists and holds them away from him.

He won't let her feel that. She can't know what that feels like.

He offers a small smile and she seems to drop it.

"Wendy, does he have a name?" Gray voice sounds from where he's sitting at the foot of Lucy's cot. He's got a hand on one of her ankles, but his gaze is intently focused on the floor where he and Wendy are currently kneeling.

Fuck his knees hurt.

He shifts to the side to sit back down and stretch his legs out in front of him.

Wendy turns to Gray, blinking. "He didn't have one when we were bound, but he might have gotten one since." Her lips purse slightly, puzzled. "Why're you asking me? Wouldn't he have told you?"

The glare he sends Gray's way is the most threatening he can manage in his current state, and the apology sent back to him makes his stomach churn. He can't tell her. She can't know. She—

"He hasn't said anything since we found him," Gray says.

Wendy doesn't seem to understand.

"What do you mean he hasn't said anything?" She looks immediately back to him. "Nii-san?"

He looks away from her.

"Say something," she pleads.

He grits his teeth and fights at his eyes burning.

Wendy just stares at him with wide, unblinking, innocent eyes.

Her breathing hitches.

"He's…the loudest person I know," she says. "He…he doesn't shut up." The smile isn't genuine anymore. It's forced. Watery. "He's so annoying. He pesters me all the time. He never lets me get any sleep because he won't stop telling me stupid stories." Her words start to slur together, voice thick. "And he'd be so boring I'd fall asleep anyway and he never stops _singing_."

He bites his lip and pulls Wendy to his chest as she lets out a soft cry.

"He never shuts up," she says, fingers digging into his back. "He never shuts up what do you _mean_ he hasn't said anything?"

He stays silent as he lets the tears roll down his cheeks and into her hair. He looks to Gray.

'Do you have a name?' Gray mouths.

He shakes his head.

No. He doesn't.

—

Eventually Wendy has to stand and get back to Lucy for a second session. Her healing magic he's always found to be captivating, and he thumbs at the slightly raised skin of his new scars. She couldn't reverse damage, she could only speed up the process of cell division so people could heal themselves. It required enough stamina on the part of the healing party, so he wasn't surprised Lucy would take multiple sessions.

Lucy lay on her stomach, head turned away from him, long hair hanging over halfway to the floor. Until now, her breathing and heartbeat remained relatively steady, but with the start of Wendy's healing, they picked up pace a little bit.

They pick up even more speed when she begins to stir.

Her words aren't audible from where he is, but Wendy attentively drops into a crouch to listen and then nods. She gives the air over Lucy's back one last swipe before hooking her hands below Lucy's underarms and helping her shift to a seated position.

"Woah!" Gray panics. "She should _not_ be up right now what're you _doing_?!"

Wendy doesn't pay him any attention. "She's exhausted, yeah, Gray, but it's not going to kill her to sit up. Everything is closed, it's just her blood that needs replenishing and I can work with her bone marrow while she's sitting."

Gray looks like he wants to say more but Lucy cuts him off. "I'm okay, Gray," her voice is rough, "I'm good." She moves slowly, turning to Yukino. "Can you get me a—" she waves vaguely off in one direction but Yukino seems to understand what she's talking about.

The fact that there's a stack of spare cloaks on a nearby shelf makes him wonder just how many times Lucy's been here for this situation before. Meredy had made it sound like it was inevitable. And frequent.

And with the efficiency and lack of initial panic Gray'd had when finding him with Lucy, and how quickly Yukino had ushered them in and gotten her all set up to be treated…he wouldn't be surprised if it _was_.

Lucy shrugs into the dark cloth and draws it around her shoulders.

"Cut me out, Wendy," she says softly, "I can't really breathe with these."

Within the privacy of the fabric, Wendy slices through the bandages and discards them into a nearby wooden box. Lucy gratefully takes in long, deep breath and lets it out in one large gush.

She then maneuvers herself around on the table, one hand holding the cloak closed, until she's facing him.

Her face looks pale. She looks absolutely exhausted.

But the warmth of her smile contrasts her exhaustion completely.

"Give us a minute?" Lucy asks, not looking away from his face. The slight protest from Gray earns a shake of her head and a bit of a hushed conversation. "I'm fine. Give us a minute."

Gray still won't go.

Lucy sighs, "You don't want to see this again, Gray. I know you don't."

Gray swallows.

Yukino comes around the table to touch Gray's arm. "C'mon, Gray."

Gray lets himself be pulled from the room.

"Do you want me to go too?" Wendy asks, and his stomach turns violently at the thought of her leaving his sight again.

Lucy's eyes snap to his at the wave of emotion and a faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I think he'd be more comfortable if you stayed. Doesn't seem to want to let you go anywhere."

Wendy nods.

Lucy waves him over, "C'mere." Her teeth shine.

He doesn't want to move.

He gets to his feet anyway.

He comes to stand in front of her and she scoots toward the edge of the table. "First of all, I want to thank you for saving me."

He bites the inside of his cheek, hard. She only needed saving because of him in the first place.

Lucy aims a playful glare at him, "If that hadn't happened the way it did, we'd be in a helluva lot more trouble than me just being injured. Trust me on that."

What is she talking about.

She shakes her head, "I'll explain later. For now I'm going to tell you about who I am."

He listens.

"I'm Lucy Heartfilia," she starts, "a witch raised by my mother who fought for the rights of familiars and was killed by those who opposed her beliefs." She winces slightly as her feet touch the floor. "I believe that what's being done is wrong, and I'm doing everything I can to reverse the socially enforced roles that have warped relationships between witches and familiars."

He feels it through the binding. Everything she's saying is true.

"Making sure you feel you can trust me is my top priority," she continues, running her free hand through her hair to gather it all behind her shoulders, "because I don't expect you to now, if ever, nor would I want to force you. Trust is something earned, not taken, and I won't take anything more from you than what's already been stolen."

He whole body is buzzing.

"I wanted to show you this."

She comes to a standing position, brings one arm to cross and cover her bare chest, and lets the other support the fabric of the cloak as it falls to the cot.

Shit.

The scar is huge.

It covers almost half the area of her torso, spanning from her right hip, across her chest, and wraps around her left arm.

It's a pattern of swirls, some areas darker than others that blooms over the swell of her breasts. Wraps around the juncture of her neck and shoulder. It's discoloured darker, red in some places and puffy and pulling at regular skin in others. Tiny tendrils that split apart and bend over the curve of her collarbone and disappear into the hollow of her throat.

It's like nothing he's ever seen before. Dusturbingly beautiful in its design.

He has a feeling he knows where it's from.

"Gray was my first familiar," she tells him. "He's the first I've ever bound because I've been so against it I had sworn I never would." She grabs the dark fabric from the bed once again to cover herself back up. "But when I didn't, Karen stole Loke, and I swore I would never let that happen again."

Lucy stumbles back into the bed and he unconsciously moves to reach for her.

Wendy has her though and helps her back up.

"So, instead of binding him when I found him unconscious," she winces at Wendy's touch and Wendy expresses a faint apology, "I brought him back to my house so I could talk to him." She lets out a soft laugh. "But he's a strong one. He'd been holding on to a decent chunk of magic for emergencies and when he woke up and saw me…" she trails off.

He bundles his hands into fists to hide his claws.

"I was expecting it," she rubs a hand against her cheek, "I mean as far as he knew I was the enemy. It would have killed me if I hadn't acted as quickly as I did with a counterspell. I couldn't undo the damage, but I could get rid of the ice before it froze my blood and bones."

He blinks. Gray's ice goes that deep?

"When it failed, he expected me to kill him," Lucy says. "He was out of magic, drained, and didn't have much fight left in him." She pulls her legs up to sit cross legged and the pain in her features dissipates as Wendy's hands move to her back again.

"Eventually, awhile later, he asked me why I hadn't physically countered against him when he attacked me," Lucy stretches her neck to one side and closes her eyes, "and to this day he still thinks I'm absolutely reckless and stupid in almost every way that comes to my health. In all honesty, he's probably right."

Golden eyes fix on him, chilling him through every cell in his body.

"I don't defend and take the attack, so you know that you could hurt me." And the strength and determination in her tone thrums in the magic rushing through him. "Because we are equal. We are not different. You can hurt me as easily as I could hurt you. I bind to protect. Not to control. And I don't defend because I want you to trust me, and if I want you to trust me I have to trust _you_ first."

She stretches her arms out in front of her, bare. Burns. Criss-crosses. Lightning patterns.

"Some attack with residual magic when they've been recently freed from a binding. Others are more physical. Sometimes it's an accident." She stares at him pointedly for that one. "And there's no blame to put on anyone for reacting the way that you guys do. It's not your fault. It's not the first time I've been hurt and won't be the last."

Lucy's smile softens her eyes.

"I can feel your guilt, and your anger. I can feel your confusion and your pain. I can feel it all, and though I haven't experienced what you have firsthand, I understand you're going through something unbelievably difficult." She moves to thread her arms through the sleeves of the cloak and starts to weave it closed with the loose laces hanging just below the collar.

He looks to Wendy who's looking at him and nods. "You can trust them. They saved me. I've been with them for a really long time."

His gazes comes to rest on Lucy's outstretched hand.

He doesn't take it…

But he brushes his knuckles against her fingertips instead.

* * *

 _What're you thinking?_

 _-xb_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** ALRIGHT IM BACK. Pulling through the shit life throws at ya slowly but surely and feeling a helluva lot better about it. Thanks for being patient guys ^^ (...I am such a broken record omg kill me.) _

_Do you see why it takes me forever now to write this story? Natsu doesn't have a name and he doesnt talk. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO WRITE HIM TALKING TO PEOPLE THAT AREN'T WOMEN?! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD THAT SCENE WITH HIM, LYON AND GRAY WAS?! omg it was terrible. Still one of my fave scenes though._

* * *

When Lucy's made sure he's had time to process and let everything sink in, she calls Gray and Yukino back into the room. Lyon follows. Meredy isn't with him.

There are quick, hushed conversations between Yukino and Lyon, and Gray and Lucy, but he doesn't pay them much attention. He sticks to the wall, now behind Wendy, to keep an eye on everyone. If Wendy trusts them, he'll give them a chance, but he can't let his guard down.

Even if they don't intend to hurt him or Wendy, that doesn't mean something won't happen.

Lyon takes the initiative to interrogate Lucy, much to Gray's irritation, and get the answers he'd been goading Gray for back in the hall. Lucy responds with everything she can remember. She went looking for him when he'd disappeared from the gathering, found him with Karen, and then kept him from attacking.

"He wasn't thinking clearly," Lucy's tone leaves no room for challenge. "Karen provoked him. I stopped him. But there was no way he wouldn't react violently and on instinct when it comes to self preservation. You know that."

Lyon, though slightly reluctant, seems satisfied enough with Lucy's answer.

But Lucy's not done.

"Even then, when I was unconscious and he could have easily killed me to break the binding and escape, he didn't. He could have killed Karen. He could have just run and left both of us there. There were a lot of things he could have done in that situation," she continues.

No. He couldn't have done any of those things.

"But he chose to save me instead." She glances back over her shoulder to him, golden gaze warm. "He wrapped me up as best as he could and chose to save me even when he had no reason to think he should."

Lucy turns back to Lyon.

"That's something to consider."

He didn't really have a choice though. Confused or not…scared or not…there was no way he could leave someone who was that loved by so many people to die like that. Not when he was the cause, even if it was an accident.

Not if there was a chance that she was everything she claimed to be.

He looks over to Wendy.

And it seems that they all are.

"Her wounds were pretty fresh when I found him with her," Gray continues, and Lyon turns his focus to him. "So it's safe to say there were only a few minutes between when that had happened and when I showed up." Gray looks away from Lyon, over to him. "Yeah?"

He nods. It wasn't very long. He'd been grateful for that.

"Cana's back at the house, strengthening the barrier since Karen managed to get inside," Gray tells Lucy. "She does good work with as little magic as possible, so everything should be fine. Especially now that you're up and moving."

Lucy nods. "Thanks for the infusion, by the way," she tells Yukino.

Yukino smiles. "Anytime, Lucy. Really. You don't ever have to thank me for that."

Lyon crosses his arms over his chest. "Why'd the barrier fail, then?" he asks.

Lucy visibly tenses at that. "Not sure. Could've just been a fluke—"

"Cut the crap." Gray glares. "You know exactly why it failed. You need to talk to Yukino about this _now_."

Lucy's head hangs and her knuckles turn white where they grip the table. "It's fine, Gray. I was just tired."

"You almost died, Lucy!" Gray yells, standing so quickly his stool catches against the jagged stone of the floor and topples over backward. "This has nothing to do with exhaustion, I swear to all that is fucking holy—"

"Gray." A wave of calm penetrates through his chest down to the bone. Yukino's voice is so soft. "It's okay."

Gray shakes his head and covers his face. "No, it's not. She's taken on too many of us. We're draining her."

The room falls silent. Even of breathing.

"Lucy?" Yukino rests a hand on Lucy's shoulder.

More silence.

"It's fine," Lucy starts, but Gray cuts her off.

"It's _not_ fine," he growls. "It's _not_ fine and you _know_ it. This is _killing_ you, Lucy. Look where you are because of it! The next binding you take on will be the last. Witches can't live without magic. You _know_ this!"

"I _know_ I know this, Gray!" Lucy's head snaps up and she levels a glare. "I know, okay?! But it's fine! I'm _fine_! I've been dealing with it for years and I can keep at it!"

The hand Yukino has on Lucy's shoulder tightens.

"You're lying, Lucy," Yukino says gently. "You know you're lying."

Tears build in Lucy's eyes. "It's nothing. They're dealing with so much more than me—"

"It's not a contest, Lucy," Yukino shakes her head and comes round to rest her free hand on Lucy's other shoulder. "It's okay to be honest about whether and when you're in pain."

Lucy says nothing.

"So, be honest with me, because I know when you're lying." Yukino tilts Lucy's face up until she's looking at her. "Do you have too many bindings?"

Lucy bites down on her lower lip. It's chapped, and the pressure from her teeth rips at a flayed area of skin until it beads with blood.

"It's okay to answer, Lucy," Yukino cradles Lucy's face in her hands. "It doesn't make you a bad person or friend to be honest about your wellbeing."

Lucy closes her eyes.

"Do you have too many bindings?" Yukino asks again, and Lucy's face contorts.

The tears fall.

"Yes," her voice breaks, and she chokes back a sob. "I can't keep up. Yukino…I can't. I'm trying. I'm trying so hard, but—" she cuts herself off and curls in, head in her hands and elbows on her knees.

Yukino's pulling Lucy into her within seconds.

He can feel it. Through the binding. Her giving in to her exhaustion.

"Nobody's disposable, Yukino," Lucy voice is slightly muffled, but still easy to understand. "I can't pick who to get rid of. I can't."

"You're not getting rid of anyone, Lucy," Yukino tells her, combing fingers through Lucy's hair. "Nobody's going to think that that's what you're doing. They're just going to feel worried about whether you're okay, and then maybe guilty for not noticing."

Lucy shakes her head. "It's not their fault—"

"And it's not yours either," Yukino finishes. She pulls Lucy closer, securing her arms more tightly around Lucy's shoulders. "It's nobody's fault, and they're not going to think that they're disposable. You know that."

"I promised them…" she whispers, "…I promised them I would never abandon them."

"And you've followed through on that promise time and time again," Yukino declares. "Time and time again you have saved them, and this is one of those times you will save them again, because if you don't…you _will_ die, Lucy."

Lucy buries her face a little deeper into Yukino's shoulder.

"You will die, all their bindings will be negated, and you will have helped no-one." Yukino's tone is lovingly harsh. "You can't help them if you don't take care of yourself."

Lucy nods.

"Alright," Yukino gently pulls away from Lucy before looking to the rest of the room. "Give us a bit?"

Gray and Lyon nod before making their way to the door.

Wendy turns to him.

"C'mon," she smiles, "let's go outside."

She takes his hand and guides him down the ever-winding halls, knocking once in awhile on a corner or wall and swiftly pulling him through before they shift back to normal. These ones aren't entirely dirt, though. Sprigs of ivy sprout from the ceiling and along the walls, and vines line the creases where wall meets ceiling and wall meets floor.

The farther along they go, the thicker the vines get and the more dense the ivy becomes until the green of the leaves fades to a pale yellow.

And then they're outside again.

The sun is now just beginning to rise, and whereas before all he'd been able to see was a hill with surrounding forest and rocks, the morning brings a whole new swell of colours.

Oranges, yellows, reds, purples. The whole clearing is bursting with life as light filters in through the canopy of overhanging tree branches. It warms his face and makes his stomach flip and he closes his eyes to feel the tingle over his cheeks.

"Feels like living in fire, huh?" Wendy asks.

He nods, and can't help the smile that breaks. The pull of the muscles feels foreign, a little stiff, but that only makes him grin wider.

His vision is slightly blurry when he finally opens his eyes to look down at Wendy who just stares back at him, the embodiment of pure joy.

She tugs him down until they're both sitting, leaning back against the now closed, vine-covered entrance of Yukino's home. He leans his head back against the soft ivy and breathes in the strong, musty scent of wet leaves. The stiffness dissipates from his neck and shoulders as he sinks further down.

He faintly registers Wendy telling him she'll make sure he's safe before his body takes over and succumbs to exhaustion.

—

It's the feeling of fingernails against his scalp that brings him back. It tickles, sends shivers down his spine, and helps him to relax further into his skin. He's on his side now, cheek on something soft, and a familiar scent surrounding him.

Wendy's still there.

The sun is a little higher now, warmer.

There's a rustling of leaves and another shifting of dirt and then Lucy's scent joins them.

Wendy shifts and he sits up from where he'd been laying on her lap. She must've moved him in his sleep. His eyes are a little dry, he's completely exhausted, and rubs at them to alleviate some of the soreness.

Lucy's looking down at the both of them when he finally manages to focus on her. "We have to head back in a little bit."

Wendy tilts her head slightly. "Are we coming with you?"

Lucy nods. "Yeah. We can't swap any bonds here."

"I take it Lyon's tagging along then?"

The completely unimpressed look on Lucy's face is laughable. "Like you even have to ask."

Wendy laughs.

"You can come too if you want," Lucy says to her, glancing to him for only a split second, "I'm sure he doesn't want you going anywhere anytime soon."

"Yeah," Wendy shifts to standing, rubbing at one of her thighs and wincing a little, "I'm not wanting to let him out of my sight anytime soon either."

Lucy follows Wendy's movement, the hand on her leg. "You alright?"

Wendy's brow furrows. "Yeah, why wouldn't I—oh," she snorts, "yeah. Just pins and needles."

Lucy lets out a relieved sigh. "Good."

Wendy looks down to him and gives his shoulder a squeeze. "I gotta go grab a few things. I'll be back out soon, okay?"

He nods and pulls himself up.

She's taller than when he saw her last. Not by much, but she'd come up to his collarbone before, and now she stood just a little ways below his jaw.

He hooks his chin over the top of her head and wraps his arms around her shoulders. She grips at his back, tight. He can smell her tears. Happiness. Not sadness.

He watches as she disappears back into the tall hill of dirt.

"She used to talk about you a lot."

He snaps around to see Lucy staring at him with a faint smile.

He cocks his head to one side.

"Back when Yukino first found her, she didn't talk much," Lucy elaborates, taking a step closer and drawing the cloth of the cloak tighter around her. "Her trauma was still fresh and adjusting to what we do here and seeing we can be trusted took her some time. But when she did, and allowed Yukino to bind her, she flourished."

Lucy seemed to glow and burst with affection at the thought, even though Wendy wasn't bound to _her_.

"Yukino eventually asked her what had finally prompted her to accept the binding." She bites back a smile and tilts her head to the sun. "And Wendy said that someone, who by everything but blood she considered to be her brother, once told her if she didn't hold on to the belief that good exists in this world, she would never live. Only survive."

Lucy looks to him.

"She fought for it. Every day. She fought to believe in the good. She would tell us sometimes about who it was who'd told her that. How she believed him because he _existed_. _He_ existed as something good in a life she'd been scraping by in until then."

He remembers telling her that.

He'd barely been able to hold it together when the witch had come to get Wendy from within their cell barrier. She'd barely been bound a few days at the time, and from what she'd told him hadn't experienced too many horrors at the hands of her previous witches.

But he knew what this one did. He knew why this one had wanted Wendy.

She'd been thrown back in, physically okay. No cuts or scratches, but absolutely drained, and dulled eyes. She'd barely made it a few seconds after the witch left before she collapsed into tears.

He was quick to muffle them in his shoulder.

This witch made the familiars fight until they were unconscious, healed them the barest amount so they wouldn't die, and then threw them back in the ring the next day. Win, and you're fed. Lose and you starve. Each time was more violent than the last. He should know.

He remembered telling that to her then.

He didn't expect it to stay with her like that.

"It hurt her to remember," Lucy continues, a thoughtful expression ghosting over her. "It hurts all of us to remember the ones we love when they're gone. But she drew strength from you."

Hold on to the belief that good exists, or he'd only survive, huh?

His origin aches.

He rubs absently at the center of his chest.

"May I?"

He looks to Lucy, who's hand is outstretched toward his. Why? What is she wanting to do?

She answers his unspoken question. "You're covered in blood."

He blinks and looks down and for the first time notices that it's not just his hands that are coated. Red is streaked up his arms too.

He checks the rest of his body, but from what he can see there isn't any anywhere else.

He holds out his fists, keeping them bunched tight. He's not sure what she'd be able to do here to wash the blood away, but—

A thin layer of frost curls up his arms, instantly melting into beaded droplets of water that she begins to rub it into his skin. The water slowly begins to turn pink, and when it does, she wipes it away with the fabric of her cloak.

It's a slow process, but she eventually gets to his hands that he's reluctant to open them for her. He hates them. The claws. He doesn't know when his fingers morphed into talons that slice through everything like butter, but he's always hated them. He hates the colour even more.

Though she washes the blood away, they're still stained.

The continuous swirl of frost is captivating. He's never seen a witch use so many different magics before.

He doesn't realize he's staring until she extinguishes the magic and he jerks out of his trance at her laugh.

"Yeah, I gotta say, Gray's magic is one of my favourites," she smiles, tugging at the fingers on her right hand with her left. "Though I rarely ever use it because it requires a concentration and accuracy I'm not entirely comfortable with. One slip in my confidence and…" she trails off.

She's using…Gray's magic?

She studies his face, and seems to read his confusion. Her eyes widen. "Oh."

Oh, what?

Lucy looks at him quizzically. "You don't know why witches collect familiars, do you?"

Yeah. He does. Power. Status. Protection. What does she think he is, an idiot?

Lucy holds her hands up and waves them frantically. "No, no! I mean, aside from the obvious! Like yeah, a lot of it is for protection and power when fighting other witches. But there's another reason."

He just blinks at her.

"Witches don't showcase it really," Lucy starts, crossing one arm over her chest and resting the other on top. She makes a vague gesture as she continues. "So it's not common knowledge and they definitely wouldn't go around flaunting it."

She's dancing around the subject. It's annoying.

He lets out a snorted growl.

Lucy seems to get it, because next thing he knows, her free hand is flipped palm up and a low flame is burning in the palm of her hand. Which isn't unusual. He's seen other witches use fire before. So what's she getting at here.

"This is your magic."

He blinks.

What?

"Witches have a base magic," she tells him, snuffing out the fire. The fire is immediately replaced with a dim glow emitted from her fingertips. "Mine is light, and by association and practice, memory magic."

Memory magic.

"With enough practice, you can manipulate the light within other people's bodies." She rubs her hands together before holding them an inch or so apart. "If you develop pinpoint accuracy, you can change the way light fires within the brain, and if you're good enough, you can project or manipulate."

…is she saying—

"Aside from basic light attacks, I can view other people's memories, or project my own into their heads."

Pinpricks of light, beams half the width of a hair, begin to spring back and forth between her palms and fingertips. They twist, turn, curve, wrap around the backs of her hands and her wrists. They move and curl until they're forming words and symbols and pictures, all individual of each other. Each strand, he can feel through the binding, requires an amount of concentration he's never had to apply to his own magic.

This witch is absolutely insane.

The fact her sigil is on her face is no joke. She really does have that much power.

The light strands begin to dissipate one by one.

She really is unreal.

"Do you know the difference between witches and familiars?" she asks suddenly, once the last light fizzles out. Her gaze is back on him now, once again piercing with an intensity that has him anxious.

He shakes his head.

Lucy looks down at her hands, and then to the leaf-covered entrance to Yukino's.

She brings a hand up to one of the vines and traces it with her fingers.

"Magic is energy," she says, laying her palm flat. "It's the energy in everything. It lives in the earth, it moves through the trees. It runs down the rivers. It vibrates in the rocks. It's everything. It's pure, unfiltered life."

The space around her fingers shimmers, iridescent beneath the sun's rays.

"Naturally, our bodies possess the ability to manifest magic in pre-disposed ways." She looks to him. "You have an affinity to fire. I have an affinity to light. Gray, ice. Wendy, cell division that she uses to heal."

She holds her free hand out for his.

He slowly extends his toward hers.

She rests his claws by her fingers.

"Can you feel it?"

He concentrates, fingers curling around the vines and into the dirt beneath. He can feel his heart pounding, his breathing, his own magic. He can feel the rough slick of the ivy, the coolness of the ground and grass.

And an ever so faint rush of energy.

He blinks.

"So you can," she smiles. "Most familiars can to some extent if they concentrate."

What's that got to do with anything?

"That's the only difference." The smile fades, replaced with a slight sneer. "The only damn difference between witches and familiars, is witches have the ability to process the raw energy of the earth, and refine it into what we call magic, and familiars don't. That's the only thing."

He tries to pull on the energy he can feel within the hill, the way he does magic from his origin, but beyond the slight rush he feels, he has no control over it.

"We are channels. We can harness it and pass it on to others. Familiars can hold and use magic, but can't actually get it themselves. That's it." She clenches her jaw and he can smell salt again. "And somehow, at some point, someone decided that that meant they could manipulate people into doing what they want because they were inferior."

He involuntarily reaches for her before yanking his hands back.

Lucy scrubs viciously at her eyes and wipes her cheeks. "Which is stupid, because witches are only as powerful as they are because of the bindings they make." She lets out a wet laugh. "I mean, do you know how rare some magics are? Do you know how rare fire is?"

He cocks his head to one side. Fire wasn't rare. Every witch he's ever had has used it at some point.

Lucy studies his face briefly before answering his unspoken confusion. "It's rare. Very rare. Aside from witches being able to use bindings to control people, they're a channel to have access to other magics in addition to their own."

He rubs at his forehead with the heels of his hands.

"Familiars pull on the raw magic that witches naturally process," Lucy starts, "and once they're in possession of it, their origin converts it into whatever their magic is. In your case, that would be fire."

He presses his knuckles to his sternum once again.

"And once that happens, witches can pull it back and use it themselves." She demonstrates with a quick flash of fire. "It's also why we can't use magic on ourselves, and why familiars can't hurt their witches with their magic. Since it comes from us, it can't hurt us."

That he _was_ aware of. He knew that since technically the fire he used wasn't his and belonged to someone else, the source couldn't actually be hurt with their own magic. It ended up null and void.

"But, since it comes from us, it also can't _help_ us." She lifts her face to the sun's morning rays with a faint smile. "Yukino and I try to divide familiars with similar magics so if there's a situation where a spell needs to be used on one of us, we can. Like last night."

Wendy.

"Up until a few months ago, we didn't have a healer bound to me." Lucy's eyes fall to him and he does his best not to look away. "Which means Yukino has been vulnerable for a very long time in a dangerous situation. What she and I are doing isn't easy. It's part of the reason why Lyon is the way he is. He's been protecting her for a few decades now."

That's not a loyalty that disappears just because there's a healer now and she's in less danger. Less danger isn't an absence of danger. Absence of danger doesn't really even exist.

"Sherria was bound to me since Yukino already had Wendy, so if anything happens to any of us, witch _or_ familiar, there's someone not too far away that can help."

It's a good system.

The wind blows dust over his cheeks and his eyes flutter closed involuntarily. He rubs at his eyes to get rid of the dirt and he blinks the blurriness from his vision.

She seems lost in thought when he can finally see her clearly again.

Her voice is gentle. A little hollow.

"The more magics you use, the more versatile your abilities, the more dangerous you are." Lucy looks to the ground. "The greater your status, and in my case, the more likely you are to be left alone and stay in power."

Witches can use the magic of their familiars.

That's insane. That's absolutely insane. There's just…

He shakes his head. It's ridiculous. In all his years he's never had an inkling that that's what happens. That that's the real source of why witches are so dangerous. If familiars made them dangerous and they needed familiars, then why would…why would they treat them the way they do? It would be a mutually beneficial relationship wouldn't it?

He brings his hands to his face and peeks through his fingers, listening intently to the rush of air from his nose into his cupped hands to calm himself down.

Witches can use the magic of their familiars.

Every. Single. One.

He's suddenly grateful that witches do everything they can to hide that fact from their familiars. If he'd had to endure more than he already had…

Gold finds him again.

"Wendy, Lyon and Meredy have been studying witch and familiar biology in an attempt to understand how exactly witches harness magic. If we can find out the difference, and if it's something we can change…if it's something we can alter familiars to be able to do, the bindings won't work. That's the hope."

He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in deep. He doesn't even want to hope.

He doesn't get the chance to wonder much more than that before the hill opens again and Yukino, Lyon, Wendy and Gray slip out. Gray comes round to stand beside Lucy and look her over, and Lucy waves him off easily.

"I'm fine, Gray."

Gray gives a non-committal grunt.

"Alright," Yukino slings the strap of a satchel over her shoulder. "Let's go."

Gray leads down the hill and back into the trees. The daylight makes it easier to see and navigate where they're going, and it requires more moving around than he remembers doing last night. It was a wonder in itself that they'd managed to move as quickly as they had, seeing now the maze of trunks and branches, it was a damn miracle.

They stop in front of a tree swirling with thick, dense, knots.

Lucy looks back over his shoulder. "Hold on to me."

Everyone reaches out. Hands on shoulders, arms.

He hesitates.

Lucy holds her hand out to him.

He takes it.

She lays her free hand down on one of the knots and pulls on her magic.

The travel this time is significantly less jarring.

His head only spins the slightest bit as he stumbles and braces himself against the rock. Back in the small clearing on Lucy's side of the gate. The only evidence of the blood he and Gray had used to get through the night before, is a faded stain of streak and handprint.

"Everyone good?" Lucy asks.

There's a chorus of murmurs in response.

"Alright, lets go."

He bites at his lip and scrutinizes his surroundings. Its the same spot. He's walked these paths not even a day ago, and everything looks the same. The fallen and split trunks where Lucy had left them, the hanging tree limbs all in place with their leaves along the path. Everything looks the same.

But it didn't feel the same.

Something is different. He can taste it.

When Lucy's house comes into view there's a collective sigh of relief, but his anxiety only grows. He's not on defense. There isn't anything waiting for them.

It's just a growing dread.

The wall is still missing from the house, but an iridescent dome covers the whole area instead. The source feels familiar. The magic feels familiar. The others slip in easily, through the barrier and toward Lucy's living room.

He goes to tap at the surface, but his hand phases through, tingling where the barrier touches him.

"Cool, huh?"

He blinks and looks up.

Gray.

Gray throws a glance over his shoulder at Lucy and the others disappearing into the house before turning back to him. He smiles at the barrier and wiggles his fingers through it.

"Works kind of like a warp. If you don't hold the same magic that was used to create it, unless an exception is made, you pass right through the space it surrounds and come out the other side," Gray crosses his arms over his chest. "One of Cana's more clever ideas."

He lets out a full-body shudder as he walks through, but doesn't follow as Gray goes to make his way to join Lucy and the others.

The dread gets stronger the closer he gets to the house.

He digs his toes into the dirt and breathes deep.

"She's not going to hand you off to someone else, if that's what you're worried about."

Gray's looking at him with the softest expression.

"It's not her decision to make. Its ours. Though in your case, since Karen is well aware of your status when it comes to Lucy, it would be difficult to explain your absence if you were to leave. But she wouldn't stop you…if you decided you wanted to leave."

He shakes his head. That's not it at all. He doesn't really _know_ what's bothering him.

"C'mon."

This time, he follows.

The room is a cacophony of voices, all varying pitches, volumes and speeds, impossible to discern from one another. The familiars clump together in groups for the most part with one or two scattering around, flitting from group to group.

They all seem worried.

"Gray."

He jumps at Lucy's sudden appearance, standing just behind him and Gray. She grips at Gray's arm and bites her lip hard enough he's afraid she's going to break the skin.

"She's gone."

Gray inclines his head in question. "Karen? Good. Less we have to deal with her—"

"Gray, shut up," Lucy snaps.

Gray swallows and immediately quiets. His assurance dissipates. His anxiety increases. It's not anger that's coming from Lucy and making her lash out. It's worry. Pure, raw, unfiltered worry that freezes him to the spot.

"Cana's _gone_."

 _—_

He hears them separately all at once, which makes no sense but happens anyway. The previously muddled conversations become crystal clear and he can't feel his body anymore. His mind runs a mile a minute yet still has room to take in every word.

"How do you know?"

"She went out looking for Sherria and hasn't come back. That was _hours_ ago."

"Where could she have gone in that time?

"Is Sherria gone too?"

"No. She showed up shortly after Cana left."

"She's strong. She'll be fine."

"Karen's probably still here."

"She wouldn't be able to get in."

"As long as Cana re-rendered the barrier, yeah."

"Even if Cana _did_ re-render the barrier, it wouldn't take much for Karen to pick just the right spot to dig herself in if the barrier fluctuates."

"Have more faith in Cana.

"I do have faith in her, it's just…Karen is ruthless."

"I know that. Have faith in Cana anyway."

"This is even assuming Karen is still around at _all_. Cana probably just fell asleep somewhere."

"Not if she was looking for Sherria she wouldn't."

"Nobody told Cana Sherria came back?"

"They couldn't."

"Right. We all stopped using magic."

"That slightest bit, more than what Cana was using, is all it takes."

"She's coming back…right?"

He shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. Tons of voices. Too many. Too many voices.

Yukino, Lyon and Wendy disperse within the group of familiars, asking questions, gathering as much information as they can as Lucy and Gray talk outside. Cana hasn't been gone long enough they wouldn't be able to find her, and with Karen still around, sooner is better than later.

Sooner is always better than later, but in this case, it's significantly better of an idea to find Cana sooner.

He needs to get away from the sounds.

He turns to where Gray had pulled Lucy and makes his way over. Their voices are hushed and hurried. He can only start to make them out once he's a few feet away from them, irritated his normally pristine hearing is being drowned out by the massive amount of noise coming from the house.

He shakes his head. They're worried about Cana. He is too. Getting annoyed by how loud everything is isn't something he should be doing right now. Even if his irritability comes from something he can't control, he _can_ control how he responds to it.

He focuses in on the two of them.

"Gray," Lucy whispers, "what if Karen got her?"

"Cana's strong, Lucy," Gray says. "She wouldn't let herself get caught so easily."

Lucy runs a hand through her hair and pulls at it a little. Her anxiety and distress rolls off her in waves and she squeezes her eyes shut tightly. Morning light dissipates over her cheeks, highlighting a slight wetness in their corners, not yet tears.

He moves a little closer to them and Gray's gaze instinctively flickers over to him.

"If she does though, she can't defend herself," Lucy's eyes slit open, vacantly directed at the ground. "She can't defend herself and it's all my fault."

Cana's strong. He may not have seen it, but he can feel it, and if people as strong as Gray and Lucy talk about her skill, it's safe to say she's got a lot of power if she draws enough back from Lucy. She'd be able to defend herself easily.

The voices from the house keep carrying over.

"Cana's strong. She can hold her own against Karen."

"No she can't. The law prevents it, remember?"

"I don't think that should apply in a kidnapping."

"I wouldn't put it past Karen to kidnap her to get her to use her magic so Karen can do whatever the hell she wants."

"That's coercion."

"The other witches aren't going to see it that way. They'll see it as incentive. An act of war. That gives them the power to do anything they want without fear of consequences."

"Hell, they'll even be happy about it. Sadistic fuckers."

"If she defends herself. If she does _anything_ Karen could warp into being considered an attack…"

"Karen would kill her."

"Karen would kill her."

"Then everything would fall apart and this arrangement that Lucy and Yukino have been working so hard for will be gone."

"And everything will go back to the way it was."

"So even if Cana could defend herself…"

"She won't."

"She won't."

"She'll take every damn hit Karen gives her."

"That's even if Karen's got her in the first place."

He wraps his arms around himself and digs his claws into his ribs to get rid of the painful buzz of his body. He clenches his jaw and rocks back and forth on his heels. He bites the inside of his cheek. Hard.

If Karen has Cana…

They have to find her.

"Is everyone else here?" Gray asks.

Lucy nods. "Yeah. Everyone else is here. Sherria came back almost as soon as Cana left. They haven't seen her since."

Gray sighs. "Shit."

Silence.

"I should have killed her the second I saw her," Lucy growled, "consequences be damned. Nobody would have cared. Then this wouldn't have happened."

"You know you can't do that," Gray grits. "As much as I'd want to be there right alongside you, you know everything would fall apart if you did."

"I _know_ I can't do that, Gray!" Lucy nearly yells, breathing heavily. "That doesn't mean I shouldn't have done _more_! I should have thrown her out of the perimeter. I should have made it look like an accident. I should have—"

Not been nearly shredded to death by _him._

"We won't be able to find Cana if you're like this, Lucy, so calm down," Gray says. Lucy looks like she wants to retort but swallows it down and shakes her head instead.

He needs to help.

He breathes through the crippling guilt as best he can as he walks all the way over to where Gray and Lucy are. Lucy immediately sees him and it looks physically painful for her to force a smile.

He frowns at it.

"Hey, you okay?" she asks.

He can't help his glare.

She blinks at him. "What?"

He waits and watches as her smile falls, and once it does, his frown lessens. She doesn't need to pretend to be fine right now, they all can feel that she isn't, so there's no real point to her trying to lie in the first place. It's a kind sentiment, though. A soft consideration that seems so a part of who she is she doesn't even have to think about it.

If they find Cana, that fake smile will go away entirely.

He readies himself, shoulders back, prepared for anything. If they come up with a plan, he's going. He can't just stand around and do nothing. He'll stew in his own self-loathing and that's not something that's going to help anyone.

Lucy's features soften as she reaches out to brush fingers along the side of his wrist. "You've got nothing to feel badly about, okay? This isn't your fault."

If he'd done something more…if he hadn't run away in the first place…

He led her here. It was his fault.

Fuck.

"Look," Gray inhales steadily, "we don't even know if Cana's been taken, okay? She could just be checking the perimeter and trying to find Sherria since she would have no way of knowing whether or not Sherria came back. So let's all relax."

Lucy presses her lips together until the disappear, and he shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

He doesn't think so.

Gray looks to him.

"How good is your nose?" he asks.

—

Under the best of circumstances, his nose could pick out the tiniest scents from tens of feet away and track them hours after they'd been left. It was one of his strongest senses and was often what made him so dangerous when it came to defending himself.

But these weren't the best circumstances. The intense scents from the past twenty-four hours, the blood and fire and new magics and great amount of familiars, were muddling his head a bit and it was harder to focus than usual.

Harder to focus, but not impossible, and as soon as he had a bit of space between him and Lucy's house, he'd be able to look properly. They didn't have anything of Cana's for him to refresh his memory, but she drinks. He knows the telltale prick of alcohol at the back of the sinuses.

Gray follows close behind, but lets him lead.

Lucy had stayed behind.

Unwillingly.

 _"You still need to transfer some bonds, Lucy," Gray'd told her. "That hasn't changed just because Cana isn't here. You take care of yourself and them, and we'll go after her, okay?"_

 _Lucy was not a fan of that._

 _"If she_ was _taken, and I let you go without me—"_

 _"We're gunna be fine, alright?" Gray'd cut her off with a smile. "You take care of this in the meantime so we can all come back together after."_

She hadn't been pleased, but Gray had managed to get her to yield.

It helped, it being just him and Gray. Without Lucy he felt a lot less pressure which kept his head clear. Her worry was overwhelming, almost crippling in its intensity.

It was also reassuring…to know she worried that much.

She really does care as much as they all say she does.

He doesn't quite know how to feel about that.

They circle one of the barrier perimeters closer to the house, not nearly as far out as he'd been the night before when he'd tried to get some air. Gray'd explained how they do sweeps of one whole area before moving to the next outer ring.

Cana's scent was all over the center circle, and more dispersed throughout the first ring. Following it was a constant back and forth twist and turn of a path that would've had him dizzy if he were to go any faster than he was already going.

This girl was all over the place. He could smell the fear lingering in her scent.

She'd been really worried.

He clenches his fists and picks up the pace, dizziness be damned. The faster they find her, the better. For her sake and for everyone else's. He's not going to again be the reason someone doesn't come home.

And they don't deserve to lose someone else.

"Lucy's right, you know."

He keeps himself moving, following the scent, but spares a quick backward glance at Gray's words. He's following calmly, matching his speed step for step.

His confusion seeps into his magic and he can feel when Gray responds to it.

"That this isn't your fault," Gray clarifies. "You not attacking Karen was the best thing you could have done. You'd've just gotten yourself killed, and then we'd need to do a hell of a lot of damage control."

Okay, now he was _really_ confused.

Gray catches on and lets out a long sigh.

"It hasn't been this way for very long, but there's a tentative peace between witches right now."

He throws a glance over his shoulder at Gray dryly.

Can you even look at someone dryly?

You can not.

A peace between witches? Yeah. _Sure_ there was. That's exactly why twice in the span of a day he's seen the same two witches in aggressive environments. There is _such_ peace between them right now.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, I know how it sounds," Gray quipped, springing forward two steps to keep closer. The scent still trailed all over the place, but by now it was reflex to just follow it. He didn't have to pay too much attention. "But there really is, in comparison to how it used to be."

He highly doubts that. In all his years he's never experienced any sort of change in a witches behavior that would indicate that…

He shakes his head. Not somewhere he really feels like going right now.

So he just keeps his ear tilted slightly toward Gray, waiting for him to continue as they track.

"It's reluctant, and the majority of them are looking for any reason, any reason at all, for it to be broken so they can go back to doing what they want. The only thing keeping them from deliberately provoking and manipulating the situation to their favor, is Lucy."

Gray absently runs a hand through his hair.

"She's the strongest. She's dangerous. She's showcased that to them on many different occasions. Usually it's enough to keep them compliant, but Karen…" Gray trails off.

Karen holds grudges.

"Karen wanted to be in charge. She's been trying to throw Lucy into the fire for longer than I've even known her. She's ruthless. I don't need to even tell you anything other than mention her name."

Accurate.

"Witches wouldn't've let familiars know about this peace," Gray tells him, head tilting to one side as he blinks, sleepy. "Karen would bet you didn't know, so if she can goad you into attacking her, everything blows up. She can do whatever she wants, and if she exposes us…that's it. Everything is back to slaughter. We're close. So close. Losing everything now would be…" Gray doesn't have to finish his sentence. He understands. He understands a goal within reach yanked away from you.

He bites at the back of his tongue with his molars.

He's suddenly very glad Lucy had found him when she did.

"Witches doing damage to each other is a given. It's not common because they can retaliate and pull on the powers of their familiars so you don't necessarily know what you're going to have thrown back at you." Gray's head whips quickly to the rustling of a bird in the trees. He relaxes once it registers what the source was. "But familiars attacking witches or each other means execution for that familiar, and that's something we don't want. Ever."

At the absence of following footsteps, he pauses and turns to look at Gray's now stilled form. Gray's eyes are fixed on him.

"She stopped you to protect you. From getting yourself killed, but also from your own darkness."

He tilts his head to one side. His own darkness?

"If you let your anger consume you," Gray crosses his arms over his chest, "if you succumb to it and act on it, there is no coming back from that. There's no thought. There's no logic. There's just pure anger, and that rage will warp you. You will not recover."

Yeah, but if anyone fucking deserves it, it's Karen. He's smelled the faint traces of blood that weren't his. He's seen the bones. He's smelled the death and decay. If anyone deserves what's coming to her, it's Karen. What they're doing right now is only more evidence of that.

Screw waiting for answers. Karen was here. Cana now isn't. There's no way Karen isn't involved.

Gray approaches him, slowly bringing a hand up to rest on his shoulder, giving him every opportunity to move away. He doesn't.

"There is always another way. Our system is _built_ on there being another way. It's easy to kill. It's a lot harder to show mercy."

He doesn't _want_ to show mercy. Karen doesn't fucking deserve it.

"We've all been where you are." Gray lets his hand fall. "I'd found my witch. I had her beaten all to hell, one twist from an ice shear through her throat, when Lucy found me."

He narrows his eyes at Gray's softening expression. He looks…fond.

"She didn't take away my magic, because by her logic it wasn't hers to take back. But she stood next to me, asking what I was doing and why." Gray licks his lower lip and pulls it between his teeth before letting it go. "It wasn't anything she hadn't heard before, but she made me talk about it."

He turns back in the direction of Cana's scent and starts following it again. Gray's crunching footsteps start up again, following closely.

"Anger only hurts the person it comes from," Gray says, and he bristles at that. He has every fucking right to be angry about what happened. Every damn reason to—

"You absolutely have every reason to feel angry. Nobody's telling you not to be upset and not to feel how you're feeling," Gray answers his unspoken ranting and he refrains from letting out an irritated snort. "But acting on it will only destroy you."

This time he isn't able to hold back the annoyance. He's not in the mood to be preached at.

"I didn't listen."

He really… _looks_ at Gray.

He can feel the pain radiating from him. It chews at his heart. Digs into his lungs. Pierces through his skin. It's all-consuming and pumps through his veins like cyanide.

It's excruciating.

"I was too upset. Too angry. Lucy didn't get through to me." Gray's speaking softer now, forcing every word out. "I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her to know she was dying because of me. I wanted her to hurt. I watched her die."

He's not moving anymore. He's watching Gray.

Gray's holding one hand in the other, running a thumb along his bare palm. "Every day it eats at me. Even with what she'd done. Even though anyone would tell you she deserved it…it still does. I still killed someone. I wonder if I could have helped her."

There's no helping someone like that. There's no helping someone who doesn't want help and whose sole purpose is hurting those around them to make themselves feel strong.

Gray quirks a sad smile at him. "Even if there doesn't seem like a chance, that doesn't change the 'what if's' you think. That doesn't get rid of the pain."

He works his jaw, stretching it from side to side and massaging the hinges gently with his knuckles. He's been clenching it so hard its sore.

He can feel it. Gray's self-loathing. He can feel the resentment directed at himself. He can feel how unworthy Gray feels he is as a result. He can feel him hating himself. Thinking he's an awful person. He can feel all of it.

If Gray is feeling this…it means he has a heart. It means he's a good person. It means he has a conscience. It means he _cares_.

He wishes he could tell Gray that. He wishes he could stop Gray from despising himself.

"I worry about Lucy if we don't find Cana," Gray confesses, clenching hands into fists and pressing his knuckles together. "She bound Cana directly after me. Bonds as old as ours, both emotionally and physically are strong. They become a part of who you are. Losing those…"

He doesn't have to elaborate on it.

"Lucy…" Gray visibly mulls over his words before looking him dead in the eye, "is a light, in this fucked up world. She is kindness. And love. And happiness all rolled into one person. She's someone who experiences pain and instead of trying to get back at the people who caused it, helps others find their way through their own. She's the strongest person I know and saves all of us from ourselves every single day. She keeps us from acting on our anger because she and I know what happens when you do."

The self-hate dissipates, replaced with a steely resolve. Open Gray is gone.

"What happened to me? It can't happen to her." Gray pulls on Lucy's magic, frost pulsing around his fingers. "It would destroy her. She wouldn't come back from it. She's too good of a person for that."

He extinguishes the frost.

"We love her too much for that. _I_ love her too much for that. She's family. We're all family." Gray finds his gaze. "You are now, too. Which means even without the law, we won't let you kill Karen. We care about you too much for that."

Gray turns back in the direction they'd been heading before they'd come to a stop again and take a few steps. "This way, right?" he asks.

He nods, but since Gray is facing forward and can't see, he instead jogs a few steps to get back in front and lead. The trail is still relatively fresh. Easy to follow.

The mistake Gray is making…is having the assumption that killing Karen would weigh on him. That killing someone who'd hurt and killed so many people, so many of his kin, would be something he would feel bad about.

Gray makes the mistake of thinking that he's a good person when that person died a long time ago.

—

It's only when they're at the outermost ring of Cana's multiple barriers that they hit the end of the trail. Water flows more rapidly here than the creek at the cottage and the scent of alcohol disappears into the river. Gray creates an ice bridge for him to get across and check the other side and the majority of the surrounding trees and rocks, but nothing. Definitely ended up in the river.

"That river is long. She could be anywhere," Gray says.

He rubs at his face and rolls his neck. Not the outcome he was hoping for.

"Alright," Gray breathes, "we head back to the house, tell Lucy, and then get a couple of us to canvas the length of the river until we pick up a scent or trail."

He nods. That's all they can do at this point.

They don't talk much on the way back. Gray leads since he knows the area better and using their scents to backtrack would take a lot more time than they have. He can feel Gray stewing in worry, jittery beneath his skin, wanting to sprint. Wanting to do _something_.

Lucy's hopeful expression tears through them both, and twists further in when she survey's Cana's absence and their worried expressions.

"Nothing?"

Gray shakes his head. "She disappears into the river of the third ring. I'm thinking we take a group to coast down the river, see where it picks back up again and—" he chokes over his words.

It shocks through them.

All feeling leaves his body, numbness roiling until it pricks at every cell with each breath and beat of his heart. It burns up his spine, digs into his skull, rips at the backs of his eyes.

He falls to his knees, and he can hear the muted thuds of everyone else doing the same.

There's a bit of muttering he faintly recognizes belonging to Yukino, Lyon, and Wendy, but he can't make out any words. They're dull in comparison to the overwhelming disassociation he's in. He sees his arms move, but he can't feel the ground beneath his hands. There's an excruciating ringing in his ears that makes him sway an lose his balance, so it takes him a second, a minute, to register anything beyond that.

Over the ringing, he hears the screams.

Lucy.

Loud, ragged cries rip from her throat. They echo through the clearing and bounce off the walls of the house. They drown out the birds. They drown out the deafening rush of blood. They're unintelligible. Wordless. Violent. He can see her tearing into the ground, ripping at the grass and weeds with each shriek.

It stops suddenly.

The only sound that remains and carries is her pained breathing, soft whimpers more wrenching than the agonizing sobs.

Nobody says a word. Nobody asks. Everyone knows. Everyone knows what it is. They all know what a bond break feels like.

They all know how it feels when a familiar dies.

* * *

 _To all you reviewers, your encouragement means everything and helps me more than you know. Thank you so much._

 _-xb_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** Alright let's get to it. 15k after a couple months of radio silence. You guys are so patient, and supportive, and caring, and your reviews and words help and mean so much to me. Thank you guys. _

_Thank you again to those having to listen to my bitching. I love you guys. This is for all of you. Readers and friends. Enjoy._

* * *

 _She bound Cana directly after me. Bonds as old as ours, both emotionally and physically are strong. They become a part of who you are. Losing those…_

It's not the first bond break he's felt. In all his decades he couldn't count the number of times he's felt a familiar ripped from the connection. The pull and absence of magic. The shock straight to the nerve endings. The empty ache.

But in every break he's experienced, it's never affected the witch.

Even if they can't share magic with each other, familiars are all still connected by something that cannot be explained. Whether they like it or not, they're bonded. No matter the level of affection they hold for each other, it's always had a painful physical effect.

This, is an entirely different level.

He can't move from where he's landed on his side. Knees drawn to his chest, claws digging into the ground. His forehead dents into the dirt, teeth bared in silent cry as tears stream down his cheeks and breaths shudder in to fill his lungs. He hurts. Everywhere. It hurts so bad.

He's never felt anything like this before.

And from what he can sense, every single familiar bound to Lucy has been forced to their knees and curled in shock.

He can't move. But he can hear.

"Lucy." Yukino's voice washes over all of them in a failed attempt to soothe. This isn't an emotional response. This is physical. Down to the bone. "Lucy, can you hear me?"

Lucy's hitched breathing and soft cries cut to the core.

"Nii-san?"

Hands push sweat-slicked hair back from his forehead and press into his cheeks. The coolness of Wendy's fingertips pull him bit by bit back into his body.

Lucy's soft cries morph into screams as she curls in on herself and tugs at her hair. Words jumble together, quiet and erratic at first before he can make out, "It's not there. It's not _there_. Her magic's gone. It's gone. It's _gone._ "

Gray's muscle is rigid with every movement as he forces himself to get to Lucy and pull her up to a sitting position. She fights him at every inch, but he just wraps her up and restricts her jerking motions. She claws at his arm. Gray doesn't let go.

" _Gray._ " Lucy's voice cracks. "She's _gone_."

Gray tightens his arms and hooks his chin over Lucy's head as tears stream down his cheeks. He closes his eyes, bites his lip, and chokes back a cry of his own, barely holding himself together.

His fingers go rigid and dig deeper into the ground as another wave hits him.

Wendy forces him to release his hold on the dirt and pulls him up to sitting as well. He can't feel his arms or legs. Everything is numb.

He doesn't feel the tears Wendy brushes from his cheeks.

"We have to go." He hears Lyon's voice and he can't suppress the snarl that rips from his throat.

Lyon's gaze snaps over to him at the sound and the growl immediately dies at the pain he sees there.

"I'm not as heartless as you think I am," Lyon says, swallowing thickly, eyes glazed. "But to keep any more of you from suffering that fate we need to go. The barriers are gone. Anyone could come find you. _Karen_ could come find you."

He can't _move_.

Fuck, why can't he move?

He barely registers his arm being slung over a shoulder and Wendy hefting him to his feet. Somehow they get under him and he manages to stay upright without collapsing, but he sways to one side and Wendy has to pull him to her to keep him steady.

"Freed isn't anywhere close to here. He's off in Alvarez. He can put up a barrier when he gets back but until then we're vulnerable." Lyon turns to Gray. "We need to get to the tunnels."

"You've got enough room for all of us?" Gray is hoarse, voice shaking, each syllable forced through his lips.

"Of course. And if not, we'll make space," Yukino says.

"Keep us away from the rehab rooms," Gray bites and then immediately looks guilty. A wave of resentment roils through, unchecked and unexpected. None of them are in control of their emotions right now.

Yukino nods. "You don't even have to ask."

Yukino and Lyon make their rounds, flittering to and from the other familiars speaking softly, helping them to their feet. Each familiar pulled to standing sends a wave of protest out. It's agonizing to move a fraction of anything.

While the familiars brace themselves against the walls of the house, Yukino speaks softly to Lucy who periodically shakes her head. She mutters out a few indistinguishable words Yukino relays to Lyon that send him moving around the small shack, gathering items into a large suede bag.

"Yukino."

Lucy's voice is ragged. Choked. Deepened with grief. Yukino doesn't respond verbally, instead rushing to Lucy's side to help Gray hold her up. Lucy's head falls to Yukino's shoulder as she bites her lip.

"Call Mira," she whispers. "She's vulnerable now, too."

Tears fill Yukino's eyes. She gives Lucy a firm nod before facing forward once Lyon returns. "Let's go."

It takes them awhile to move through the forest. Toes catch on thick roots and more than one branch ends up grazing their arms and legs, but the pain doesn't register. There's a faint breeze that cools the tear tracks of his cheeks and each brush of wind makes his heart ache even more.

Karen.

Wendy's voice is muted since she's faced away from him, but he manages to pick up her words. "Maybe…maybe it wasn't Karen—"

"It was Karen," Lucy grits her teeth. "There was nobody else around. Cana wouldn't have just disappeared and died. Not with her magic. It was Karen."

No doubt.

How many more. How many more familiars…families… _living things_ does Karen have to hurt before she's satisfied? Before it's enough? What is she even after anyway? Anything at all? Or is she just torturing and killing familiars for the hell of it.

…yeah. Definitely just for the hell of it.

He doesn't know whether it would be easier to take and understand if Karen had a good reason. Though there's no motivation to justify any of this.

He seethes audibly, phlegm breaking up and crackling the sound. She's going to pay.

He's going to make her pay.

He'll find a way. There's a loophole somewhere.

Another wave hits him, pressing down on his brow-bone and drawing strength from his limbs. Lethargy takes over, lidding his eyes and forcing each movement to take an overwhelming amount more effort than before.

His hearing dulls. Sense of smell dulls. Whole body buzzes with exhaustion. He faintly registers the pull of passing through the warp, the weightlessness that comes from being moved, and the presence and proximity to the others.

He doesn't remember getting into Yukino's tunnels. He doesn't remember any of the moving walls. He doesn't remember stopping and starting and turning and being lead.

All he remembers is something soft under his head, curling up in a large room, and the relief of knowing that the others are all huddled up in the same area—a steady reassurance that thrums beneath the lingering agony of the bond break.

—

It's an unfamiliar smell and energy that pulls him from sleep.

It takes a few moments for him to move, muscles sore and stiff from clenching in the same position for what was definitely a decent chunk of time if his degree of wakefulness is anything to go by. Wendy's gone, her scent faint, but not faint enough for him to worry about where she might be. Probably healing someone.

The energy is weird. It's one he's never encountered before.

She just stands there, in the doorway, one hand up against the rough dirt frame. Chunks of silver fall in deep blue eyes and cascade down her shoulders—messy and windblown, but she's not out of breath. She scans the room, darting from person to person more times than there are people until they dart to him.

A slight lift of the lips seems to be all she's able to muster. He can't really tell since he can't get a read on her emotions through the bond or otherwise.

…human. This woman is pure human.

There's no magic in her. He can't sense it.

She's also free of any piercings that he can see.

He's never met anyone magicless before.

"Mira."

The woman's head snaps over in the direction of the voice, to where Lucy is, propped up against a wall, ragged and exhausted. Gray isn't with her. He's not in the room either. He must've ran out at some point.

Lucy bites her lip, hard, as Mira makes her way over and a fresh wave of tears fill her eyes.

Mira falls to her knees in front of Lucy.

"She's gone…isn't she?" _Mira_ asks. Though her face flickers with hope and dread, her voice is heavy with melancholic acceptance. She waits for the answer she knows is coming.

Lucy nods.

It's instant. The light that leaves her eyes. Mira bows her head, face hidden by a curtain of hair that only falls right back into place when she runs her fingers through it. A choked sob escapes her lips, further ones muffled by a hand she presses to her mouth to stifle them.

Nails dig into her scalp and twist into the silver as her cries sound through her nose, muffled, but too loud to be hidden. Lucy immediately pulls Mira into her, fresh tears trailing to her chin and soaking into Mira's hair.

"I'm not—" Mira's breath cracks involuntarily, a sob cutting off her words as one hand tugs at Lucy's cloak, "—ready. I'm not _ready_ for this, Lucy. I'm not—I don't—how do I—" She grips harder at the dark fabric as the breathing comes faster and words begin to blend together. "I don't remember life with _out_ her, anymore."

Lucy's jaw visibly clenches as she says nothing, only tightens her hold on Mira's shaking frame.

"Where is she?" Mira asks, and Lucy shakes her head.

"We don't know. Karen got her."

Mira freezes up at the name, body going disturbingly rigid, especially as tears continue to stream down her cheeks and drop to the fabric of her pants.

"She suffered," Mira whispers.

"Most likely," Lucy answers. There's no point in lying. Not when the all seem to know who they're dealing with. How sadistic Karen can be.

Mira huffs out a breath as a small smile tugs at her mouth. "She's strong. She wouldn't break."

Lucy pulls back. "No. She wouldn't. She loves all of us too much. She loves _you_ too much."

Hair on the back of his neck pricks at another presence, but it's one he knows. Gray fills the doorway for only a second before he's striding over to Lucy and Mira and sitting with them, hand reaching for Mira's and giving it a squeeze.

"I can't…" Mira's voice is weak as she stares down at Gray's hand in hers and unfurls her fingers, "she was just with me…" She looks up at Gray and tightens her hold on him. "Just like this. Right here."

"I know," Gray breathes, "she was doing a perimeter check when we left. Lucy protected one of us from Karen and got hurt. She was protecting all of us when we couldn't fight back."

Mira nods to herself and presses her lips together.

…right. She was doing a perimeter check to make sure that the defences were strong while Lucy's magic was fluctuating. Lucy who was drained from having so many familiars bonded to her using her magic. Lucy who's magic he had used in a frenzy when he ran off because he couldn't hold his shit together for more than two seconds.

Lucy who was only hurt because he'd had a fucking meltdown. Lucy who wouldn't have been hurt if he'd never run away from Karen in the first place, and if Lucy had never found him she never would have gotten hurt, the barriers never would have fell and Cana wouldn't be dead.

This is all his fault.

It wrenches in his gut so hard it has him keeling over with teeth shredding through the skin of his inner cheek. The familiar tang of blood fills his mouth and churns his stomach, only making the feeling worse as he curls up tighter. He needs to leave. He needs to just disappear before any more of his mistakes fuck up this family more than he already has.

"Hey."

His head snaps up, his sight full of golden eyes and hair, as warmth comes to cradle his face. Thumbs brush old and fresh tears away and trail over his cheeks and trace his cheekbones. He selfishly leans into Lucy's palm and blinks slowly, still sluggish from everything, seeking a comfort he doesn't deserve.

"This," she says softly, pausing until he looks up at her, "is _not_ your fault."

Yeah. It is.

"No, it's not." She argues with his silent thoughts. "You are _not_ responsible for this. This is _Karen_ 's doing. Her actions are to blame. Not you. Not me. Not Cana. Not anyone."

He shakes his head and pulls back from her, pushing himself up to sit with his knees to his chest. He wraps his arms around them and tugs them tight, rocking just slightly. It does nothing to ease the feeling, only adds to the pressure building in his body.

And now he's being a fucking baby about feeling guilty when everyone just lost someone they've loved for years. _They're_ the ones who need to be grieving right now, not worrying about him and his sorry-ass. _They_ need to figure out what to do about Karen because if they don't then this is going to happen again. _He's_ the one who brought her here. _He's_ the one who fucked everything up. _He's_ the one who's going to be responsible of slowly, one by one killing every, single, good witch and familiar in existence and destroying the people who have been trying to liberate his kin from the hands of those who have been oppressing them for years. It'll be all his fault and he'll be back in a cold basement with his chest expanding until it feels like it's going to explode and if he'd just died then, none of this would have happened.

"I apologize for this ahead of time."

He jerks against a pressure circling his back. He feels hair sliding over his skin and his own breath blowing back in his face in quick puffs from where he's pressed into a neck that isn't his. He can feel it pulse against the bridge of his nose and he can feel the air in the room scraping down his spine and crawling in his nerves and the acid eating away at him from the inside as he tries to get away from it. From all the _feeling_.

The pressure around him increases as gentle vibrations buzz through his ear. It seeps into his muscles. The tighter the hold, the greater the amount of force he feels, the more he comes back to himself and the easier it is for him to breathe. Slower. Easier. The blood rushing in his ear quiets down enough for him to make out the sound right next to him.

Singing.

" _Breathe. When it gets too much to hear, just breathe. When it gets too much to feel, just breathe. When you feel your mind is gone, please breathe, just breathe. Breathe for me._ "

Flowers. He can smell flowers.

" _Breathe. When you feel you're set on fire, just breathe. When the world is crumbling down, just breathe. When you've lost it all please, just breathe. Breathe. Come back to me."_

Her arms are bare on the skin of his back. Warm. Radiating energy that pulses through and around him…them. He shudders at the nails brushing through his hair as he falls into her hold.

" _And though it's dark, and the light's away. And though your sight's colour, fades out to grey. And though your soul, screams out in pain. Your strength won't fade. Your heart is strong. You will survive this. You're not alone."_

He breathes heavily against her shoulder, and it takes a minute for him to realize he's gripping at fabric and clinging onto her. It's foreign. He can't remember the last time he was held like this.

It brings a new wave of tears that soak into the velvet of her cloak.

"This isn't your fault," Lucy says softly, again, continuing to comb through his hair with her fingers. "Nobody blames you for this."

He blames himself. Mira probably blames him too.

Whether or not they see it as his fault, it is. He knows it is. He's responsible for this. It wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for him. If he'd just stayed where he was supposed to…if he'd hidden his trail better so Karen hadn't been there when Lucy had found him…maybe it would have been different.

He'll be the one to find her this time. He'll be the one to find her, and when he does, he'll kill her.

For Lucy.

Mira.

Cana.

Loke.

Gray.

He'll kill her for every damn person she's ever tortured, manipulated, murdered, and destroyed. It doesn't matter what happens to him.

He will make her pay.

—

They stay like that until he's so out of his head he can't tell how much time has passed. Her hands never still. Playing with the thick strands of pink. Fingertips running over the short hair of his undercut.

He continues to breathe into her shoulder and focus on the sound of air rushing over skin. It's loud, and a little shaky, but he focuses on evening it out and on the feel of his heart. His strength leaves him and he swallows as he manages to let his eyes open. Though he's so close to Lucy he can't focus on a thing, it's still more grounding to have a field of vision at all.

Her hands come to rest on his shoulders as he pulls back. He doesn't meet her gaze…can't meet her gaze, but he can see her shifting this way and that to try and get his attention. He just…can't.

His stomach sinks as she stands.

All he seems to be doing is screwing everything up.

Two hands appear right in front of him, and this time he has no control over his head snapping up to Lucy.

"C'mon." She stretches her hands toward him further.

He takes them.

She pulls him to standing and heads back in the direction of Gray and Mira, which has him digging his heels in. He can't go over there. He can't face them after this.

Lucy takes one look and seems to understand, so she gives his hand a squeeze and gestures toward the doorway with a tilt of the chin.

"I'll meet you in the hall, okay?"

He meets her golden gaze before walking out of the room.

The halls are darker this time.

Torches still line the walls, but instead of the orange and yellow flames he'd seen last time, they burned a deep blue, slow and steady. It casts the surrounding dirt in a sort of deep, indigo hue and slightly calms the growing nausea eating at him.

There's a touch to his arm and he turns to Lucy.

She doesn't say anything, just turns down the hall and walks slower than normal until he follows her.

It's a little unsettling, how narrow the halls are, how often they change and disappear from view. It's a maze he doesn't have the focus to map out right now to keep himself oriented, and it's not a feeling he's used to having. Whether or not he knows what specific area he's in, he always knows an escape route. He's always able to figure out how to move around and get where he needs to go.

It makes his skin prick with needles and breathing come faster.

A hand comes to circle his wrist.

"It's okay," Lucy says gently.

The next breath comes deep and easy.

She lets go of him only when they come to a large slab of wall that she needs both hands to press against, palms alit with a dull glow of magic as the dirt crumbles and curls open to reveal a large dim cavern.

This one is lined in stone, glistening with water as it trickles in from a long line in the ceiling, a constant waterfall straight down the center that collects into a pool within the sunken floor's concave. It glows a bright, iridescent orange. Surrounding the edges of the pool are tall, tapered spikes that stretch up and to mirror the stalactite drips protruding from the ceiling. A few have grown so long they've merged with their mirrors to form hourglass columns that reflect the fire of the walls, flickering over the rock ridges.

The room is silent, save the rush of water from the ceiling to the ground, and dripping from the stalactite. The smell of wet rock…reminds him of the rain outside.

He'd always loved the smell of the rain.

There's a rustle of fabric next to him before Lucy's pooling her clothes at her feet and turning her back to him. She's bare with the exception of bandages wrapped around her waist and chest, a new set drenched in a sweet-smelling salve he can't quite place the origin of. Must've gotten rewrapped when he'd gone outside before.

"Can you cut through these, please?"

He sharpens the scales of his claws and slices through them easily.

Lucy forms a ball with the tattered gauze to toss in with her cloak and pants before wading into the pool to stand beneath the water. The skin the bandages hadn't reached have remnants of blood and dirt that easily wash away under the steady fall.

He undoes the leather knot around his waist before going to join her.

The water isn't as cold as he'd expected it to be. It's lukewarm, which is a blessing to his overheated skin and soothing to his muddled thoughts. It soaks into his hair, rolls over his shoulders and down his spine and runs off the tips of his fingers. With his head bowed and eyes closed it trails down the ridges of his face and drips off the tip of his nose and chin.

It clears his mind.

He starts rubbing at his arms, lifting the rest of the dirt Lucy hadn't gotten the day before and watching it disappear beneath the steady orange glow of the room. He scrubs with his knuckles at his face, neck, over the sigil of his chest, stomach. He does his best to get at his back, but he can't reach and doesn't feel like clawing at the skin and losing any _more_ blood than he has the past couple days.

"Want me to get it?"

He glances over to Lucy, wet hair spread out over her chest keeping her covered. She's rubbing at her own arms and when he cocks his head to one side, her gaze falls to his back.

He studies her face, how open it is. How genuine, even when it's neutral in its expression. He can almost feel the pressure she's suppressing behind her eyes in trying not to cry. She's holding herself together through sheer will.

He lets his gaze drop and offers his back to her.

He flinches at first, when the tips of her fingers find the ridges of a few of the thicker scars on his back. The numbness in most of them isn't too painful, but there are a few where the severed nerves cut deep at any touch. He's had to forego shirts because of it.

"Sorry," she whispers, before pressing her full palms to him and working over the expanse of his shoulder-blades.

He nearly melts backward into her hands as they dig into the muscle of his back and neck. Under the streaming water they're slippery and slick, and his neck rolls forward as his chin falls to his chest. Though he's sure the dirt isn't as caked on as he feels it is, everything washing away leaves him feeling lighter.

Even after she's finished getting at his back, her touch lingers.

"You didn't deserve these," she says, nails resting just beneath one of what he knows to be his larger scars, "you know that, right?"

He tilts his face to the ceiling, allowing his hair to be pulled back by the waterfall before leaning back to look at her. She's so focused on the scars she doesn't even notice.

"There's nothing you could've done to deserve this."

He begs to differ.

He's done things he's not proud of that he definitely would deserve a lashing for, but what he'd done and gotten those particular marks for? Yeah. Not something that was worthy of that kind of punishment.

Can't have your familiars starving to death now, can you? Even if you're intentionally keeping them weak you still need them alive and functioning for whatever reason you've decided to become a bloodthirsty, power-hungry witch.

Her hands come up to rest on his shoulders and push as if to turn him around. He raises an eyebrow at her and when she finally meets his gaze, she simply says, "C'mon. Turn around."

So he does.

He watches as she slowly reaches up, one hand on either side of his head, and he has to fight to keep his eyes open as her fingers work their way into his hair. He misses when it was longer at the base of his neck, but as she gently pulls at the strands and works on scrubbing through them, he can only be grateful he hadn't lost it all.

"I don't have any wash on me right now, so this'll have to do until I can get some."

He nods.

She avoids his horns and is careful as to how she brushes the hair away from his ears in an effort to avoid his previous piercings. He's close to being lulled into sleeping standing up when the rumble of a shifting wall has him back on alert.

The familiar feeling of magic has him back at ease right away.

"Hey," Gray's voice is soft as his eyes focus in on him, "feeling any better?"

He breathes in steady, and then out before rolling his shoulders back and letting out a soft rumble and wave of contentment through the bond.

"Good," Gray smiles, gaze falling to the clothes on the ground, and then Lucy. "Unwrapping those already?"

Lucy presses the palms of her hands into her lower back and stretches her spine in a long arch with a satisfying few pops. "Yeah, I really needed to. They were way too tight this time. Especially the first set when I was healing. Were you worried about me or something?" Lucy teases.

Gray shakes his head. "Nah. Yukino did the wraps this time."

Lucy brow furrows. "Really? Why?"

"She kicked us all out of the room." Yeah, and Gray had _not_ been happy about it. His irritation reflects on his face even now.

Lucy's frown deepens. "Again, why? You're always with me and helping me when I'm injured."

"She didn't want more people than necessary seeing you naked," Gray says, deadpan.

Lucy scoffs. "As if I care about that when it comes to you guys. You're my family and in this world? Modesty is so unimportant."

Gray snorts. "Couldn't have put it better myself." His smile falls and turns into something thoughtful. "Still, you weren't awake to give consent and it isn't her decision to make."

Lucy hums. "Yeah, I guess I get that. She's never had to patch me up like this before so I guess we should let her know for the future."

"Yeah, cause next time I'm not letting anyone kick me out of that room." Gray crosses his arms over his chest. "She's lucky I let her get away with it."

Lucy lets out a light laugh.

"So, need anything?" she asks.

"Hm?" Gray starts slightly. "Oh, yeah. Just here to let you know Mira woke up and there's something I need your help with once you're done here."

"She okay?"

"Yeah. Just letting you know. I'm gunna take her for some fresh air."

Lucy lets out a soft noise of acknowledgement. "Alright, sure thing. We'll meet you outside."

Gray nods and leaves.

"Alright," Lucy stretches her arms overhead and grunts a muffled sigh. "Let's finish up and head back."

As she starts to work on her own hair, he scrapes at his teeth and uses bits of fire to burn at the film before rinsing with water. His tongue feels weird in his mouth, foreign and still a little sore, but he's grateful to be rid of the metal. He can more precisely feel the ridges of his teeth, gums and inner cheeks and he feels a hell of a lot cleaner once he's spit everything out.

Lucy's movements draw his attention and his stomach sinks.

With her back now exposed and bare in the light of the cave, he can see the criss-cross of healed claw marks left by his hands. They're dark. Thick. Raised. Angry. Bright against the lighter pigment of the otherwise flawless skin of her back.

Guilt roils in his gut.

"Hey, none of that now."

She's turned to face him again.

So much gold.

"You didn't mean to," she tells him, cradling his cheeks again and he can't help but wonder about just how easy it seemed for her to initiate contact, and for him to not balk at it. "You didn't mean to. It wasn't your fault."

Of course it was his fault. He was the one that did it.

"You weren't in control of your actions. It happens." She smiles up at him and really. How can she smile at him like that?

He shakes his head.

She sighs. "Fine, then. If you insist on blaming yourself, then I forgive you."

His eyes snap to hers.

Her smile is warm. Soft. Her voice seeps into his chest and seems to force away the acid eating at him as she brushes some hair from his face. "If you insist on feeling guilty and taking blame for something that wasn't your fault, then I forgive you."

He bites his lip, hard.

She rests a hand on the center of his chest and keeps her eyes focused on him as pressure builds behind his.

"I _forgive_ you," she whispers.

And when a fresh wave of tears brim, he lets her guide him to the skin of her neck so he can hide his face in her curtain of wet hair as they fall.

—

When they find Mira and Gray outside, they're sitting at the very top of the hill in a pile of leaves and they aren't alone. Yukino and Lyon sit beside them, close enough for comfort, but not enough to crowd. Wendy isn't there. She doesn't seem to be anywhere close either.

He sniffs the air for Wendy's scent but comes up empty.

Gray answers his unspoken question. "Wendy's inside helping out with a couple injuries. She's safe."

He nods.

Lucy moves to sit opposite Gray and Mira.

He hesitates.

He bites at his inner cheek and looks around, wondering where he can go to hide or maybe even get back inside. He doesn't belong here with them. Not these guys who've known each other this long. Not when he's been involved in the reason for what they're all going through in the first place.

"Hey."

Mira's eyes are blue. They're so so blue. They swim with pain and sadness and love and they root him to the spot and keep him from taking any sort of step away from where he is now.

"I haven't met you yet, you're the newbie, right? Gray's been telling me about you."

He doesn't answer. He just looks away and shuffles over across from her, next to Lucy. He can't bring himself to sit down on his own, the guilt bubbling in his stomach won't let him.

Lucy's hand finds one of his hanging at his side, and she gently tugs at his claws to get him to take a seat next to her. "C'mon."

He presses his lips together.

"It's okay," Lucy smiles up at him. "C'mon. Sit with us."

"We don't bite," Mira says. The joke is lacking in energy. He can hear it. He can feel how much she's trying to be okay. The amount of effort she's putting in to make him feel comfortable.

He nearly falls to his knees and presses his forehead to the ground in front of her, hands on either side of his ears.

There is complete silence before a slight shuffling.

"Hey," Mira repeats, and he knows she wants him to look at her but he can't. He _can't_.

He presses his forehead further into the leaves.

"I'd pull you up myself but I know you're not a big fan of being touched," Mira says, "so please don't make me make you uncomfortable. Please. Because I will if it means getting you to stop apologizing for something that isn't your fault."

He pushes himself up so he's on his hands and knees, but can't bring himself to meet her eyes.

"Cana was someone who looked out for everyone, whether she knew them or not." He watches Mira move from kneeling to cross-legged and her hands come to clasp together in her lap. "She threw herself head first into everything, dug into what your problems were, yanked them out of you, and stripped them bare with such cold logic you had no choice but to drop whatever stupid thing you were lying to yourself about."

Gray and Lucy let out a muffled laugh and hum of acknowledgement.

"More times than I can count she's thrown herself in the line of fire for someone else," Mira sighs. "I knew what I was getting into when she and I got together. I knew at some point she wouldn't be coming home. That's just the world we live in. The fact that you can trace events back to yourself does not for a second mean that you are the cause of this. Karen is."

He chances a glance up at her.

Blue.

Deep blue holds him again, with an icy warmth that chills him to the core. Shocks him to the bone with no other choice but to listen to everything she's telling him.

Seems to him like Cana took after _her_.

"I don't blame you," Mira tells him. "You are not at fault. Please don't feel guilty about something you had no part in or control over. Leave the blame to the person who killed her."

He doesn't know how to do that.

Soft hands find his shoulders and pull him back to sitting on his heels. Lucy gives him a slight smile and squeeze before turning her attention to Mira herself. "Gray said you needed my help?"

Mira tilts her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

Gray rubs at the back of his neck. "Sorry, Lucy, I didn't mean Mira was asking for it. I just thought that you could help her."

Lucy looks back and forth between Mira and Gray. "With what exactly?"

Gray looks to Mira who looks just as confused as Lucy. Mira's eyes narrow as they focus in on Gray and Gray kind of shrinks beneath Mira's pointed stare before his expression melts to one of compassion.

"You said you couldn't remember the last thing Cana said to you," Gray tells her, and Mira freezes. "I figured Lucy could find that memory for you and show you."

"Right." Mira's voice cracks.

She doesn't need to have magic running through her for him to pick up on the sudden change in her.

She looks away and covers her face, and then Gray is right there, coming in close. "Hey," he says softly, "I'm sorry. I should've asked and shouldn't have sprung this on you—"

"It's not that," Mira's breath hitches as tears roll down the skin not hidden by her hand, "it's just…"

She lets her arms fall. Slitted eyes stare vacantly at the ground in front of her.

"What kind of person am I to not be able to remember the last thing my dead fiancée said to me?"

"Mira, no."

Lucy shoots to her hands and knees to sit right in front of Mira and wrap her arms around her. Mira lets out a strangled sob as she clutches at Lucy's back and hides her face in Lucy's shoulder. The quieter she gets, the tighter her fists clench until it tears from her throat, muted only by the fabric of Lucy's clothes.

"I c—" Mira's breathing stutters, words lost in between, `"—I can't remem—"

Lucy rocks her gently, side to side.

"You never think your last conversation with someone is going to be your last," Lucy says softly, brushing Mira's hair from her face even as Mira continues to hide in her shoulder. "And unfortunately, the mundane conversations we have every day aren't the ones that stand out. Not remembering doesn't make you a bad person and you know Cana would threaten to kick your ass for thinking so."

Mira nods against Lucy and Lucy just holds her tighter.

"She loved you with everything she had, Mira. The fact that you two were so sickeningly domestic to the point things start to blend together is what you should be focusing on."

Mira lets out a wet laugh at 'sickeningly mundane' and moves ever so slightly so her eyes are visible, but mouth still covered. She mumbles something into Lucy's shoulder and Lucy pulls back to hear better. "What was that?"

"I said you're right," Mira whispers.

Lucy situates herself back cross-legged.

"Do you want me to find it for you? I can. But only if you want me to."

Mira keeps her head bowed and picks at her fingernails. The wind tangles in her hair, bringing a few coloured leaves with it, stark red against bright silver. Lucy absently pulls them out and brushes the displaced locks back behind her ear.

"Yes. Please."

"Okay," Lucy lets out a breath and shifts in place before focusing in on Mira. "You do remember how it works though, right? When I show you memories, only you can see them, but when I'm looking for or being shown memories, those in direct proximity can see too. I have no control over that."

Mira nods. "Yeah. I know. I don't mind."

"Okay," Lucy sighs, looking around to everyone individually and landing on Mira last. "About three days ago would you say?"

"Yeah."

Lucy brings her hands up to Mira's face. Thumbs come to rest just between her brows, first and second fingers on her temple and the last two curling around the base of her jaw. They just barely touch Mira's face and he can feel his own skin prick with a ghost sensation.

"Here we go," Lucy breathes, closing her eyes. Mira does too, but he can't look away.

The light from Lucy's fingers warms a light gold, iridescent within the tiny threads that appear from finger to skin. They slope from thumb to finger just over Mira's eyebrows, temple to jaw and curve down to her chin. Then up the ridges of her lips, along the bridge of her nose, back past the thumbs to the center of her forehead.

The gold pools and shapes into the image of a third eye.

It's mesmerizing.

Magic thrums through him, hypnotic, dazing, enthralling. It buzzes beneath his skin, threatening to burst out and break free—

Lucy leans forward. Presses her forehead to Mira's.

—and it does.

—

 _She wakes to a soft pressure on her cheek and her source of warmth disappearing._

 _"Mmnnnh."_

 _She lets out a tired whimper and manages to hook her fingers into fabric to bring the warmth back. There's a slight rumble against her cheek as she buries her face into soft skin._

 _"Mira, I have to go."_

 _She shakes her head and pulls her pillow back in closer._

 _Lips find her temple, cheekbone, nose, mouth. Mira lets out a muffled moan as Cana rolls over her to press her into the mattress and she hooks a thigh over Cana's hip to keep her close._

 _Cana lets out a pained groan. "Babe, you make it really hard to leave."_

 _"Why are you leaving?" she asks against Cana's lips, fingers trailing up sides until Cana's shuddering above her and bracing herself against the wall to stay up._

 _"New binding," Cana breathes against her skin, a little ragged. "Means dinner tonight. Gotta go welcome the newbie."_

 _Cana drags her lips and teeth along the skin of Mira's neck and she hums, content. "Can't skip this one?"_

 _"I skipped the last one," Cana sighs, shifting to lay down again, still lazily sucking the skin at the base of her throat, "wanna stay here with you, but this one's unplanned. Might need to help out."_

 _She sighs and hides her face under Cana's jaw. "Unplanned?"_

 _Cana nods. "Yeah. We haven't met anyone since Sherria, so I gotta go see what's going on. Might be Karen."_

 _She lets out a soft sound of protest. "Do you have to go_ now _?"_

 _Cana goes silent for a few moments before tightening arms around Mira and snuggling deeper under the covers. "Alright. I'll be late this time."_

 _"So you'll be on time?"_

 _"On time is late."_

 _She laughs. "Who'd expect you to be someone who's punctual?"_

 _Cana's fingers find her sides and then she's squirming and laughing, trying not to flail in a way that'll hurt the love of her life who decides tickle torture is the best form of playful punishment._

 _Lips drink down her laughs. Hands roam over curves. Thumbs smooth over breasts. Breathing shortens. Backs arch. Moans draw from throats._

 _They doze for hours until she forgets whether it's even happened. Whether the bed shifts. Whether the blankets are tucked in around her. Whether words are whispered against her skin._

 _"You are the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. I love you so fucking much."_

 _She doesn't know if it was real or a dream, and her tongue is so heavy in her mouth she can't answer before she's drawn back down to sleep._

 _—_

His mind is foggy when his vision returns.

His heart aches.

Cana.

His focus snaps back at the sound of a soft sniffle amidst the silent group. Mira wipes at her eyes with the heels of her palms and Lucy rests her hands on Mira's thighs with a soft squeeze.

Mira lets out a quick breath as her mouth pulls into a smile.

"Of course she'd've said that," she lets out a quiet laugh, "the sap."

Lucy presses her lips into a line of a smile and Gray comes in to wrap an arm around Mira's shoulders. Mira lets herself fall into Gray and closes her eyes with a tired sigh.

"I was so tired, I couldn't remember what was real and what was a dream," Mira says, drawing her knees to her chest. "It was driving me crazy."

"Definitely real," Lucy says, shuffling back a bit and crossing her arms.

Mira nods. "I know. Thank you, Lucy."

Lucy smiles. "Of course. Anytime."

His attention is caught by Gray moving to say something, and seemingly deciding against it. Gray's eyes flicker between his lap, Mira, and Lucy before he rubs at them with his free hand and lets out a low hum.

Lucy seems to pick up on it and stares at Gray with a raised brow.

"What?" he asks.

Lucy blinks. "I dunno. You're the one thinking too hard. You tell me."

Mira opens her eyes and glances up at Gray from her place on his shoulder. There's a spike in anxiety he can feel from Gray through the bond that's almost immediately counteracted with a wave of peace.

Gray lets out a low breath, "Thanks, Yukino."

"Anytime."

He jolts in place and snaps his attention over to Yukino and Lyon.

He'd forgotten they were there with how quiet they are. To be expected considering.

Though…Lyon doesn't seem to be in a state he'd expect him to be in.

Lyon sits, legs bent into an 'x' with his knees up and elbows slung over. His hair's in his eyes, but not enough his downcast gaze can't be seen. He looks a little out of it and though his hands are slack, the tension in his body and energy is suffocating to watch. His breathing is extremely shallow and with a swallow, his lower lip cracks.

Lyon is not okay.

He manages to catch Lucy's gaze and direct hers over to where Lyon's sitting. With Mira watching Lucy closely, she follows Lucy's line of sight over to Lyon herself and sits up to face him.

"Lyon?"

Lyon doesn't move.

"Lyon."

Still doesn't move.

Yukino brings a hand up to rest on his shoulder and Lyon jerks beneath the touch, flinching into a sitting position at attention, ready for some sort of order. When he realizes it's Yukino, Lyon seems to come back to himself and relaxes.

"Need anything?" he asks Yukino. "You alright?"

Yukino tilts her head to one side, "That should be _my_ question. You were zoned out for a little while there. Are _you_ okay?"

Lyon looks away, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just…thinking."

Lucy shifts. "About?"

"Nothing."

Lyon curls slightly in to himself, doing his best to relax into a neutral expression, but Gray isn't having any of it.

"You're allowed to be affected, you know," he tells Lyon.

Lyon shakes his head. "I didn't know her as well as you guys did."

"Doesn't change the fact that you knew her," Mira says softly. "She clearly meant something to you…unless I'm wrong?"

Mira's expression is open, questioning, as she continues to look at Lyon and Lyon continues to avoid her eyes. He fidgets with his fingers and bites at his lip, licking at the blood to clear it away. Mira remains silent as Lyon's thoughts seem to run in circles before he eventually relents and deflates a bit.

"One of the first times I'd met her," Lyon starts, deliberately looking away from Mira, "she really helped me with something. It was so long ago I don't remember everything she said but…she saved me there for a minute." He glances at Mira. "I think she'd only just met you at the time."

"Yeah?" Mira asks, breathless.

Lyon manages to hold her gaze for a split second before he has to stop. "Yeah."

Yukino leans into Lyon and threads her fingers through his to give them a quick squeeze. "Do you want to share, maybe?"

Lyon looks from Yukino, to Gray, to Lucy, and then Mira.

Mira's eyes. Mira's eyes full of pain, and heartbreak. Mira's eyes full of longing, full of missing someone who was gone. Looking for anything to listen to or hold onto about Cana that she didn't already know. Wanting to hear about her fiancée. Mira's eyes, staring at Lyon with such hope and emotion he can see the second Lyon's resolve crumbles.

"Sure," he says softly, looking to Lucy. "Do you remember that time Yukino got really hurt and you were working on her for hours?"

"Back before we had healing magic?" Lucy asks.

Lyon nods.

"Yeah. I think I know what time you're talking about, though it may take a bit of sifting."

Lyon takes a deep breath as Lucy moves to sit in front of him. "You'd yelled at me and thrown me out in the hall because I threatened to shove you through a wall, and Gray broke the door throwing me through it."

Lucy nods. "Yeah. I remember that one."

Similar to what she'd done with Yukino, Lucy arranges her fingers across the points on Lyon's face, and pauses.

"Ready?" she asks, focused mainly on Lyon but directed at everybody.

There's a collective hum that Lucy responds to by wrapping the light along the planes of Lyon's face, and a collective intake of breath as Lucy leans in to rest her forehead against Lyon's.

—

 _Everything aches._

 _His back from where it'd hit the door. His head when he'd landed on the floor. The sides of his hands from pounding on the huge sheet of glass Gray put up to keep him out of the med bay._

 _Everything._

 _His witch is in there dying. His witch is in there_ dying _and he's stuck out here, useless, left to pace a hole into the ground with no idea what the hell is happening in there._

 _Lucy doesn't even have healing magic, what in the world could she be doing right now to help._

 _"What're you doin' out here? I thought you'd be in there."_

 _He has to refrain from punching the wall next to him._

 _"Gray kicked me out," he tells her instead, letting his head fall back to rest against the dirt, "said I was interfering."_

 _"…well that's not like you." Cana traverses the length of the hall to stand above him and crosses her arms. "You never lose your cool." She laughs. "Heh. Get it? Cool?"_

 _"Shut the fuck up, Cana," Lyon snarls._

 _"Woah, okay then," Cana moves to plop down next to him and pulls her knees up to lean on her thighs, "what's going on?"_

 _"What do you_ think _is going on," he asks, rage building back up in his chest, "Yukino's got a fucking hole in her stomach and I'm stuck out here when I should be in_ there _." He gestures waywardly toward the makeshift ice door._

 _"No, I know that," Cana says. "I've been reworking the barriers today so I heard once I got back in and then came straight here. I mean what's going on with_ you _?"_

 _He shakes his head. "Nothing."_

 _Cana sighs. "Now if that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation because you'd be in there," she points at the ice, "with Yukino. So what happened?"_

 _His throat feels tight and his eyes burn._

 _"I failed. That's what happened."_

 _He swallows down the lump in his throat and squeezes his eyes tight, giving them a rub with his thumb and forefinger. Light bursts behind his eyelids and when he opens them again and the black fades back out, there's a water-skin right in front of him._

 _He takes it, pops the lid open, and downs a few gulps in one swift movement._

 _He lets out a few coughs as the alcohol burns down his throat and a few tears escape. Cana takes it back as he hacks up half a lung and drinks a bit herself before capping it._

 _"What happened?" she asks again._

 _Lyon clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath._

 _"We're working with this new familiar," he tells her, rubbing at his eyes again. "They're really fucked up. Couple witches back was someone named Karen? I dunno. They haven't said much."_

 _He lays his head to one side to stretch out his neck and take a few seconds._

 _"I'm usually right there with her, ready, during Yukino's first few times with them. They attack her and I stop them. They attack me, and I stop them. Sometimes she uses her voice to help them calm down and ease their feelings if they're out of control." Lyon clenches a fist and then flinches at how it pulls at raw skin. "This one didn't take too kindly to that…and I wasn't there."_

 _"Lyon, you can't be there all the time—"_

 _"Like hell I can't," he snaps at Cana, and Cana doesn't so much as blink at his sudden movement to looking at her. "It's my_ job _. I take care of her. We don't have a_ healer _anymore, Cana. If she gets hurt and we don't have someone who can help…"_

 _Lyon deflates._

 _"I can't let anything happen to her. I'm not supposed to let anything happen to her. This is all my fault," he whispers._

 _"You aren't responsible for anything but yourself, Lyon," Cana says, and he goes to whirl on her again but she stops him by holding up a hand to get him to stop. "Hear me out."_

 _He shuts up. Reluctantly._

 _"This world is fucked up," she sighs, twisting her wrist to twirl her water-skin in circles. "This world is so fucked up that bad things are going to happen no matter what. We're going to get hurt whether its minor, or severely. It's going to happen."_

 _"Not if—"_

 _Cana whacks him on the knee with the water-skin. "Let me finish."_

 _He growls under his breath._

 _"Yeah yeah, right back at ya," Cana rolls her eyes and faces forward again. "Just because she got hurt, doesn't mean you failed. And that doesn't mean you're responsible for the lives of others. Do you know how much you've done for her? Do you know how many times you've saved her?"_

 _"…well, I mean…I'm usually around to protect her from—"_

 _"That's not what I'm talking about, Lyon," Cana says, a slight smile on her lips. "I mean emotionally. Do you know how many times you've saved her spirit?"_

 _…what?_

 _Cana hums. "I'll take that as a no then," a bright smile crosses her face, "she talks about it to Lucy all the time when you're off somewhere else. She never stops singing your praises."_

What?

 _"Before you, Lyon, Yukino didn't think much of herself. Her parents weren't very good to her, and after they died she wasn't surrounded by the best people either. The other witches around her would treat her like a familiar alongside_ their _familiars since by their standards, 'her magic was lame and completely pointless, so who would even care about her anyway if she couldn't win any fights?'"_

 _How had he not known this?_

 _That seems to be written on his face because Cana answers his unspoken question. "She'd been taking care of you and then just figured there was no reason to bring it up. Because of you she hasn't thought about it in years. You're the first person to ever make her feel like she's worth protecting. Worth loving. Worth something at all."_

 _"But she is," he says softly. "I'd do anything for her."_

 _"And she'd do anything for you," Cana smiles, "because she loves you and you love her and you're family. You could never fail her even if you tried."_

 _Lyon falls forward, head bowed into his hands between his legs. "Cana, if she dies…"_

 _"You'd know."_

 _He swallows._

 _"Focus in on your origin for me."_

 _He breathes deep and pulls his focus to his chest. To the nearly microscopic energetic layer encircling the muscle of his heart. It swirls with magic. Beats with every thrum of his blood. Grows with each passing second through the binding in his ear. The magic is a little different though. Feels a little different in his veins. Tastes a little different on his tongue._

 _"Feel it?" she asks._

 _He nods._

 _"Exactly."_

 _He bites his lip. Of course. He knows this. Of_ course _._

 _"Her magic isn't fluctuating. She isn't going anywhere."_

 _"Feels different," he mumbles._

 _Cana nods. "Lucy probably gave her a blood and magic infusion. She's been using my barrier magic a bunch so maybe she's holding things together until they start to heal on their own?"_

 _He doesn't quite know what to say to that, and when Cana offers him the alcohol again, he takes it. "I can't let this happen to her again. Ever." He takes a swig._

 _"Just be careful about that," she tells him, letting her legs fall so she can pull them under her cross-legged. "It's easy to get protective in a controlling way."_

 _"Never," Lyon growls. "I would never do that."_

 _Cana smiles. "I know. You're just gunna watch everyone a million times closer than you usually do for any sign of threat."_

 _Lyon downs the rest of the alcohol while staring pointedly at Cana._

 _She takes it back from him._

 _"You're lucky I've been cutting back or else I'd've had to kick your ass for drinking all my booze," she glares playfully before hooking the water-skin back to her belt._

 _Lyon blinks. "You're cutting back on drinking?"_

 _"Yep," Cana says, popping the 'p'._

 _"…who the hell are you and what have you done with Cana?"_

 _Cana laughs, "I'm still me. I've just met someone."_

 _He watches in awe as every feature of her face relaxes from the worry he's used to seeing, into one of fond adoration. Eyes bright. Smile soft. Cheeks flushed—and not from the few gulps of alcohol she'd had with him. She stares at the ground, gaze unseeing to the physical world around her and completely focused in on a memory._

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"Yeah," she breathes, biting at her lower lip. "Yeah, I have. She's amazing."_

 _"She?" he asks._

 _Cana raises an eyebrow, "Yeah. She. Got a problem with that?"_

 _Lyon scoffs, "Fuck no. I just meant for you to tell me her name."_

 _"Oh," Cana flushes and rubs at the back of her neck. "Sorry. Been given some real shit for that with a couple past witches of mine, and even some familiars. Never know who's gunna have a problem with it."_

 _Lyon rolls his eyes. "Stupidest fucking thing to get worked up over."_

 _"Right?" Cana snickers._

 _Lyon smirks. "She must be something really amazing if she's gotten you to cut back on the drinking like that."_

 _Cana shakes her head. "She didn't get me to do anything. I'm doing it on my own because she deserves someone who isn't stuck in a drunken daze all the time…and I can't use it as a crutch forever if I'm going to be okay."_

 _Changes like that have to come from yourself or they don't really stick. He knows Cana's relied on alcohol a lot in the few years he's known her so for her to meet someone who makes her want to take care of herself…this woman must be something really special._

 _Cana smiles._

 _"Her name is Mira. And I gotta shape up if I wanna be worthy of her."_

 _—_

When he comes to this time, he can smell salt and he can hear more crying. This one different than the last.

He blinks hard to clear his vision and when he does, he sees Yukino wrapped around Lyon.

And then it makes sense.

He's the first familiar in a long time to be bound outside their usual system. Familiars are brought in, shown the ropes, and choose whether or not they want a binding. Lucy and Yukino make it the familiar's choice, which also means the other familiars have time to meet and get used to and build trust with _each other_.

That's something his split-second binding didn't come with.

They don't know him. They don't know where he's been. Where he came from. They've figured some of it out from his situation and knowing who Karen is and what she does and from Wendy, but they don't know _him_.

He's a stranger who was bound to _Karen,_ with a magic that could easily hurt anyone of Yukino's family.

Of course Lyon would have his guard up. Even if they have someone bound to Lucy who can heal them now. That instinct isn't something that disappears overnight. He knows that himself.

Lyon's like anyone who has people he loves. Would do anything to protect them.

And has those who love him in return.

"Don't ever feel like that again," Yukino whispers. "Don't you ever feel worthless because an accident happened. That was not your fault, why didn't you ever talk to me about this?"

Lyon closes his eyes and tightens his arm around Yukino's waist to draw her closer. "Sorry."

"Damn right you should be sorry," Yukino's voice cracks. Lyon loosens his hold to rub at her back. "Don't you _ever_ feel how I used to. You aren't allowed. Not you."

Lyon rests the side of his head against Yukino's. "Only if you do the same."

She nods into his shoulder and readjusts so she's sitting in his lap with her legs around his waist. It frees the arm Lyon had been using to prop them up so he can support her when he moves to stand up.

"I think we're going to head in now. We'll gather everyone in the main, okay?" Lyon asks.

Lucy forces a small smile, "Sure. Take a minute. We'll be in in a little while for the briefing."

Lyon nods, "Alright, see you in there."

Lyon hikes Yukino up, secures one arm around her hips and uses his free hand to move her hair so he can see. He carefully starts down the side of the hill, but pauses briefly to look over Yukino's shoulder.

Lyon locks eyes with him.

It's only for a second, and thought it's mostly a neutral expression, it's also a kind of question. He can feel Lyon's intention. Lyon isn't going to apologize for the day before. He was protecting his witch and he will never apologize for that, but having him understand that there was a reason for those actions seems to be important.

He offers Lyon a slow blink in response, and with that, Lyon disappears back into the ground.

Mira doesn't seem like she knows what to do with the information given by Lyon's memory.

"She meant a lot to a lot of people," Mira muses, almost absently. "Just was how she was with everyone."

Gray smiles. "For the most part, yeah. She gave a lot of people the benefit of the doubt and did her best to call people out on their shit when they were being 'idiots' as she'd say. But she was a lot different when it came to you."

Mira tilts her head to one side, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"She was always very blunt with us," Lucy says, shifting back to her original position beside Gray and leaning against him. "She would actively listen, she would come up with plans, she would get involved with the family, and she wouldn't be quiet about what she thought."

"She didn't sugar-coat." Gray looks fondly off to one side. "And it honestly helped so much with our plans. She was goal driven with us. She didn't talk about herself much."

"Oh but you," Lucy let out a soft laugh and looked to the sky. "You, Mira."

Mira blinked. "What?"

Gray joined Lucy with a chuckle of his own. "The way she would talk about you."

If anything, that only warped Mira's expression deeper into one of confusion.

Gray looks to Lucy. "You up for one more memory?"

Lucy looks back. "Yeah, sure. I'm doing alright."

Gray turns to Mira. "I've got one you might like to see. It's easier just to show you what I'm talking about…and I think it'll…" Gray trails off.

Gray turns to him.

"Last one. You alright? Lucy's memory magic is taxing sometimes since you're in that person's head and it can be difficult."

He nods. Yeah. He's alright. Tired, sure, but that's how he was before.

Lucy checks herself that he's alright before turning to Mira. "Last one. You ready?"

Mira nods.

Lucy takes a deep breath and once again positions her fingers along the points on Gray's face and calls upon her magic. The light has barely fused together into one continuous line along the ridges of his face before the memory surfaces.

Quick and voiceless.

—

 _He's threshing a sheaf of freshly cut wheat against the inside of a barrel when someone jumps on his back. "Heya, popsicle, how ya been?"_

 _Gray sighs heavily and tosses the empty stalks into his discard pile. "You_ know _jumping on me is dangerous, Cana."_

 _"Eh," Cana slides down his back and rounds to stand in front of him, "that was_ one _time, and it healed."_

 _"You split my eyebrow open on a rock."_

 _"It_ healed, _" Cana groaned, "haven't you forgiven me yet?"_

 _"Doesn't mean I'm not going to bring it up sometimes," Gray smirks, and Cana gives him a light punch on the shoulder._

 _"You don't see_ me _doing that," she comments._

 _Gray scoffs. "You mean you_ don't _guilt me about your arm?"_

 _"Hey, I'd_ just _started building my house, alright? Crashing in yours and Lucy's was not a fun time for me. Set me back_ months _."_

 _Gray laughs. "Well, we have a healer now so that won't happen again."_

 _"Good."_

 _She looks good. Lighter. Less weighed down than the last time he saw her. Though they don't usually hold these parties for Yukino's bindings—Yukino prefers to do her own kind of ritual at her place—this one is different. This one is special._

 _They've got their first healer._

 _She's young. Blue hair. Eyes way too innocent for her own good. Took her awhile to warm up and she's particularly attached to Lyon for some reason Gray can't seem to understand. Lyon's particularly protective of her too, which isn't something Gray's ever seen from him before._

 _He was the one to start calling her Wendy because he couldn't stand being so impersonal, and she'd liked the name well enough to adopt it._

 _She's been through too much for someone so young. Losing the person she was closest to. She deserves the best celebration she can be given and he's glad it's going to be here at the cottage where he can make up the place._

 _"You're here later than usual," Gray comments, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, "usually you're here before lights are up to help out with food. What kept you?"_

 _Her face lights up like nothing he's ever seen before._

 _She beams._

 _She radiates something he's never felt, a happiness and swelling in the chest that is so strong through the bond he has a hard time resisting rubbing at his. Her eyes glaze over and the light reflects off them until they're twinkling. Her usual mask of playful snark and guard is gone._

 _She's pure emotion._

 _"Mira."_

 _Gray's eyes widen in surprise, "Mira?"_

 _"My girlfriend," Cana clarifies, smile getting even wider if that's even possible, "I met her about a decade ago, and we've been friends for awhile, but recently we've…gotten together and holy shit, Gray…" Cana trails off and she covers her face with her hands._

 _"She's my everything, y'know?" She wipes her hands down her cheeks and they come to rest on either side of her neck. "Like for the longest time, whenever I didn't see her, my heart hurt. It hurt so bad I'd almost end up crying and I didn't understand why it hurt so much. I miss you and Lucy and the rest of our family a bunch and it hurts sometimes, but not like this. Not this kind of pain."_

 _Cana takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around her middle, hugging herself as the smile fades slightly._

 _"I got really jealous sometimes," she says, biting hard at her lip. "I'd get so upset I would stop talking to her because I didn't want to be angry with her. I didn't understand why her being with her other friends would hurt so much, because you're not supposed to be upset like this with your friends. You're supposed to be fine when they aren't with you…but I wasn't. I wasn't fine. And I didn't understand why until I was kissing her."_

 _Tears fall from her eyes and stream down her cheeks, and he wraps her in his arms instantaneously. Though he can feel that most of her feelings are of happiness, there's a lingering pain she hasn't seem to have dealt with and all he can do is be there while she feels it. "Emotions are hard sometimes," he says._

 _"And it just…clicked. I love her, Gray. I love her more than I've ever loved anything in my life and when she kissed me back…" He can feel her teeth pressed against the skin of his shoulder as she smiles. "She kissed me_ back _and I started crying because everything made sense."_

 _Gray runs his fingers through her hair and presses his lips to the top of her head. Listening._

 _Her words. Her feelings._

 _They're too familiar._

 _"I'm so crazy about her. I swear, Gray. I'm going to marry that girl one day. When all this is over? And we're safe? I'm going to marry the fuck out of her and spoil her until she doesn't know what to do with herself." Cana lets out a wet laugh and Gray lets out one of his own. "I love her so fucking much, oh my god."_

 _Too familiar._

 _His heart hurts._

 _His breathing turns shallow._

 _Cana pulls back but it barely registers. He really can't feel anything. His body's gone cold._

 _"Gray?"_

 _He swallows, hard, and closes his eyes. Presses the heels of his hands into them until colour bursts behind his eyelids and he's clenching his jaw until it hurts. His neck strains. His chest strains. His back hurts._

 _He falls to his knees._

 _"Gray!"_

 _Hands rest on his shoulders and then either side of his face, pulling his hands away and twisting his head from side to side. His vision dissolves back in, black back to colour, and he fights to catch his breath._

 _"Fuck," he whimpers, and he crumples forward._

 _"Gray," Cana's voice tries to harden but wavers with worry. "Gray, please talk to me. What's going on? Are you alright?"_

 _Gray shakes his head as the tears build. "I love him."_

 _Cana freezes. "What?"_

 _"I love him, Cana," he breathes. "I haven't seen him in decades, but…fuck, I_ love _him."_

 _He can feel Cana stop breathing before fingers work into his hair._

 _"Loke?"_

 _Gray nods._

 _"You didn't know?" she asks._

 _Gray shakes his head._

 _"You'd think you would," he can hear the smile in Cana's voice, "the way you talk about him…the few times you actually_ do _talk about him. You light up, you know."_

 _Gray snorts. "You're one to talk. You looked like the fucking sun earlier."_

 _"Well if I'm the sun, then you look like the light from a full moon whenever you think about him," Cana says softly, carding through his hair as gently as possible. It's a windblown, sweaty mess from working in the small field all day, and the slight pulling sends shivers down his spine._

 _Gray swallows again._

 _"What the hell am I supposed to do?" his voice cracks. Cana's skin is blurry from where his forehead rests against her collarbone, and his eyes hurt trying to focus. "How the hell did I not figure that out?"_

 _Cana sighs. "We live in the middle of a warring dystopia, Gray. It's not something on our minds, really."_

 _He gets it, he does, but it's crazy. It's crazy that he'd never thought about it before. It's crazy that Cana describing her heart hurting is the exact same thing he'd feel whenever he'd see Loke talking to another familiar sometimes. It's crazy that the ache he feels…the absence of Loke…is something that cripples him sometimes, something that makes him so anxious he can barely keep himself from jumping out of his skin and tearing through any and all trees to find him, wherever he is._

 _He'd always thought that it's just because Loke was his best friend…but…_

 _Then again he'd never had anything else to compare it to._

 _The only other people in his life he'd ever felt so viscerally about, were Lucy and Cana, and those were entirely different from Loke. Lucy is an extension of himself. The other half of his head. His partner in anti-crime. She's his family. His sister. He would do anything for her. He would protect her to his last breath. He doesn't know what he'd do without her, and Cana is the same._

 _But Loke._

 _Thinking about Loke is something he feels in his heart. His origin. His body. His soul. He aches. He longs. He wants. He misses. He feels empty of a chunk of himself he hasn't felt since the last time he'd seen him._

 _Yet he can barely remember now what Loke looks like._

 _But he remembers him._

 _He remembers Loke's breath in his ear as they huddled in their cell. He remembers Loke's hands as they took care of the gashes and burns and breaks that would happen in the fights with the familiars of other witches. He remembers the rumble of Loke speaking, how it felt against his cheek whenever he'd wake up in the morning and Loke would be sleep-talking._

 _He could never forget that._

 _"It's okay," Cana whispers in his ear. The vibrations of her talking are different than Loke's and with that thought he can't stand feeling them anymore. It's too much. It's all too much._

 _He pulls away._

 _"I can't," he shakes his head and sits back, away from skin and hands and energy and feelings. "Too much…I can't—" his voice breaks and he closes his eyes. There's too much going on he doesn't know what to do._

 _"Breathe, Gray," Cana says. "In, one, two. Out, one, two. C'mon."_

 _He shakes his head again, but copies the rhythm of her breathing anyway. He can feel the waves tingle through his body with each breath, and his heart slowing down every time he exhales._

 _It takes a little while, but eventually, he feels stable again._

 _"I didn't know," he whispers._

 _Cana hums._

 _"How could I not have known?" He sighs and pulls his knees up to his chest. He splays them and rests an elbow against his knee, and then his fist against his temple. "What the hell am I even going to do now? What do I do with this?"_

 _"You find him."_

 _Gray's gaze snaps to Cana's, and her mask his back. The mask of purpose. Of will. Of an iron determination that only stops once she's gotten what she's set out to do._

 _And this time it's directed at him._

 _With him._

 _"You find him. We help you find him. And then you bring him home," she says. "Simple as that."_

 _Gray breathes deep once again before sinking into his resolve._

 _She's right._

 _"You find him," her mask breaks into a smile, "and then Mira and I become best friends with you guys and you both are there to whine about how gross she and I are being at our wedding when you marry us."_

 _Gray lets out a laugh._

 _He nods._

 _"Yeah…okay."_

 _—_

Gray's phantom pain lingers in his chest.

And then his guilt comes back.

He wishes he could have done something. If he'd been bound to Karen sooner…or if he'd found Loke himself, or if…he doesn't know.

He just wishes he could have done something.

But Gray just smiles at Mira and clasps their arms together, fingers just below the bend of her elbow, and gives her a squeeze.

"That look on her face, Mira," Gray sounds breathless himself, "was one I have only ever seen when she talks about you. That's the look I was talking about."

Mira nods with tears streaming down her cheeks. "Thank you, Gray. I'm…I'm sorry about—"

Gray cuts her off. "Don't worry about it right now."

The pleading pain in his expression is what keeps Mira from pressing the issue further. She just nods again and grips Gray tighter.

Gray clears his throat.

"Alright." He lets go of Mira's arm and, bracing hand on propped up knee, pushes himself to standing. "I'm gunna run ahead and see if Lyon and Yukino have everyone. I'll see you inside."

Mira looks like she wants to say something, but Lucy just grabs her hand and they let Gray go. He can feel Gray holding himself together the best he can as he slides down a steeper part of the hill and knocks his way through the dirt back into the halls.

"It's not an easy one for him to see," Lucy offers, still looking after Gray though he's no longer around. "He's only shown me once before…when he was afraid what I would think about him having feelings for Loke. It was easier for him to show me than to tell me."

Mira nods. "It's not an easy conversation to have."

Lucy sighs. "Yeah. It's not."

Mira shifts until she's kneeling and sitting back on her heels. "Should we be going inside too, or?"

"Yeah," Lucy answers, "in a minute. There was just something he knew I wanted to give you first that he figured would be better I do with the fewest people possible."

He looks to Lucy and blinks. Should he be going then? He doesn't want to intrude, and if Lucy wanted to give to Mira then maybe he should leave.

Almost as if Lucy heard him, she turned to him, and then Mira. "Do you mind if he stays?"

Mira shakes her head. "Not at all. What is it?"

Lucy smiles to herself. "Cana is the familiar that took the most time before she accepted my binding. She was quick to fight and slow to trust, and the majority of the time I knew her before the binding was spent with her just watching and waiting and occasionally attacking me to see if I was lying or not. It pissed Gray off to no end because I told him he couldn't stop her and he was worried. He didn't like her much at first.

"But she slowly began to open up to Gray. She saw how protective he was of me and that made her curious. She saw how protective I was of him. Of her, even though she wasn't bonded yet. We saved her on a few occasions, and she, us. Even when she was still distrustful."

Lucy brings both hands to one side of her face and fumbles with something beneath her hair.

"Cana is someone who rarely picks people. Then again, you'd know this better than I would. She accepted me to keep her safe and be a source for her magic. She developed a relationship with Gray that neither of them were expecting. But she picked you. Nothing out of necessity or obligation or proximity. She picked you."

There's an audible click and then Lucy's hands are in front of her, fidgeting with something she then holds out to Mira in a slightly curled open palm.

"That's why I want you to have this."

Mira tentatively takes the object from Lucy and holds it up.

A jade, teardrop earring, set in silver.

Mira's eyes fill with tears.

"I would keep it," Lucy says, "but I feel like if anyone should have it, it would be you. You're her other half. You're the person she was choosing to be bound to for the rest of her life. You should have it."

Mira runs a thumb over the metal and picks at it with her thumbnail. "How do I—"

Lucy reaches for it, "Here."

Mira hands it over.

"Since it's a binding, the clasp is magic and can only be activated and deactivated by the witch who forged it. So if you want to wear it, once I put it in you won't be able to take it out," she warns.

Mira nods, "That's fine."

With a few more movements, the earring is set and Mira tugs at it with her thumb and forefinger.

She looks to Lucy. "Thank you, so much."

Lucy manages a smile. "Of course."

Lucy stands and offers a hand to Mira, who takes it, then to him. He also takes it.

"Alright," Lucy lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls her neck and shoulders. "Let's do this."

Lucy leads the way as they head back inside.

—

This time Gray, Lyon and Yukino's scents linger as Lucy leads them through the halls to yet another room. Something about the path feels familiar and he thinks he catches a whiff of his own scent through one of the walls, but he couldn't say for sure.

Maybe they have it mapped out somewhere?

It's when a bunch of different scents converge and Lucy opens up another doorway that they get to where everyone is, and the space is insane.

The air is warm and dry and rubs at his sinuses and the back of his throat until it feels a little raw and he's craving a drink of water. The room is nearly twice the size of the waterfall area, with the same stalactite deposits mirrored on ceiling and floor. The glow here is a white-blue instead of orange, and illuminates from cords spiralling around the hourglass rocks. The far end has a somewhat slanted, raised platform Gray, Yukino and Lyon are standing on, talking to each other.

The whole room is _full_ of familiars.

Some he knows are bonded to Lucy since he can feel her magic from them through the bond. A few he recognizes, but mostly a blur of faces. Another amount he can sense have Yukino's magic, but from looking at them interacting with those bound to Lucy…one would never be able to tell. They're just as much family with each other as they are with those bound to the same witch as them.

Something twinges as he thinks about that possibly being him one day.

"Nii-san!"

Wendy bounds up beside him with a wide smile and he can't help but smile right back at her. She looks a little tired, but happy.

Lucy comes up on his other side.

"Alright, we've gotta start this. You good to stay here?" she asks him.

He nods.

Lucy offers a small smile before heading up to the front to stand next to Gray, Mira right with her. At Lucy's appearance on stage, the thrumming chatter falls deathly silent, the only sound being the shuffle of fabric as Lucy crosses her arms.

Her voice carries.

"We lost Cana today," she starts, and the collective pang felt by all echoes through the bond, "to Karen."

A chorus of snarling and grumbling picks up that's immediately silenced by Gray raising a hand.

"We've been working for equality," Lucy continues. "We've been taking in familiars, working with magic users who have only been taught how to hurt others, and doing our best to turn our region into one where magic isn't something that's feared. We've been doing this for decades."

She stands. Her head holds high, shoulders back, gaze hard, though hurt whorls within. She sets her jaw and lets her hands fall to her sides as she begins to pace.

"We honour those we've lost." Lucy's voice turns thick. "We honour those who have fought for us and given us everything they can. We honour those who believed enough in what they felt and saw and strived for in the future that they remained loyal until their very last breath." Her voice breaks.

She clears her throat, and goes to continue, but is stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

Mira.

Lucy sends her a questioning look, and Mira just nods, taking a step forward instead.

The air pricks with attention and curiosity.

Mira takes a deep breath.

"I have no magic," she says, scanning the group of familiars in front of her, "nor have I ever experienced oppression at the hands of someone else like all of you have. So I cannot speak for you, nor would I ever dare to. I can only speak for myself.

"I have never been involved in this with firsthand experience, but the day I learned about witches and familiars was the day I became an ally." Mira brings a hand to her chest and taps her fingers against the hollow of her throat. "I was a fighter once. I did what I could to bring supplies to familiars, fight witches, help you escape. It's how I met Cana."

Mira takes a deep breath, and hardens her resolve.

"I can't fight anymore, but I can support. I can tell you that you can do this. You can win. You _are_ winning. This is an operation that is succeeding and every path to victory involves sacrifice. Cana knew that. You all know that."

Tears spill over Mira's cheeks.

"I wish this hadn't happened, but you can't quit now. Especially not now—" she cuts herself off and covers her mouth with one hand.

Gray guides her toward the back of the stage and takes her place.

"Judgement is in three days." His voice rings through the room, echoing off the ceiling, walls floor, seeping through skin and into bone. "We have three days to get ready to face Karen. And we have three days to figure out where she lives, and how to get there and back here without leaving a trace or getting killed."

A hum of confusion buzzes through the group, effectively silenced by Gray continuing.

"We aren't leaving Cana to rot in the ground. We aren't leaving her with Karen," Gray snarls. "She deserves better than that. You all know that. We're going to get her the only time we can. The only time Karen will not be there. We're going to kill two birds with one stone. Find Karen's house, and get Cana back."

Mira holds on to Lucy. Lyon stands tall, watching Gray with a determined expression. Yukino nods, full of an anger that looks foreign on her face. Despite the fact he'd only known her for a few days, it feels wrong for Yukino to look like that.

Gray looks from those behind him, back out to the group. "We have three days, so let's figure out how we're going to do this."

Everyone begins talking overtop of each other, the initial hum of confusion turning into a chorus voices and a slew of cheers and yells. Motivation. Decision. Anger. Determination. Vigor. It all washes through the room and he buzzes with it. He buzzes with all of it. It fuels him.

Three days, huh?

He can't wait.

* * *

 _Thank you guys so much. I'd love to hear what you think!_

 _-xb_


End file.
